How Fickle My Heart
by adventuresinstorybrooke
Summary: Emma Swan is eighteen and alone. Six months pregnant, she accidentally drives into Storybrooke and finds a friend, and maybe even family, with Mary Margaret. How would their relationship have developed if this had been the plot of Season 1? How would Emma's arrival have affected the town? Lots of Emma/Mary Margaret BrOTP love.
1. White Blank Page

**Alright guys, so this hiatus is KILLING me and I needed more Emma/Mary Margaret(Snow White) in my life. This story has 14-15 chapters. So If I post one every other day it will cover the 34 days that we have left until Season 2 premieres. Regina, Rum, Dr. Whale, Graham, "David," and others WILL be in the story. The focus will just be Emma and MM. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :) **

**Oh, and I own nothing. Just my computer, my blog, and this account. **

It was during times like this, when the deafening silence of the empty highway seeped into her skull and poisoned her thoughts, that Emma Swan wished that her car radio served more of a purpose than occupying space in her dashboard. It had been broken when she purchased the vehicle, a beaten-up yellow bug, but with a working air conditioner and an engine that ran smoothly enough, the car radio did not make much of a difference. And it was cheap, but so was the electrical wiring.

The headlights shone dully onto the misty stretches of the winding asphalt, as she drove in silence, unsure of her path or her destination.

Out of all the things that Emma Swan disliked, she detested silence the most. Silence allowed for memories, regrets, and fears—once held at bay—to drift to the shore. These thoughts she preferred to not acknowledge when she had the choice. The only comfort in the long and quiet drive was the occasional fluttering in her abdomen that reminded her that she wasn't alone. It was the reason she had been able to muster some self-control. It was the reason she didn't burn down that damn roadside diner after she was fired. It was the reason she _got_ fired. But now it was her reason to start fresh.

She placed one hand on her growing belly and held the other firmly on the steering wheel as she rounded a turn. She glanced down for a moment and smiled slightly—and as she did so, she passed a painted wooden sign on the side of the road. _Welcome to Storybrooke._

* * *

Granny's Diner was small. Small, and considerably quieter than Emma had expected. And even though she would have preferred something with a little bit more life to it, she needed a break from the endless mountain road, so she had parked across the street and meandered her way through its doors. She took a seat at the counter and mumbled a "thanks" when a tall brunette set a glass of water in front of her.

She took small sips of the water and visually perused the diner to occupy her thoughts. She was the only person sitting entirely alone; there were two other tables with people sitting at them, enjoying their meals, and the third was inhabited by a ginger-haired man with a large Dalmatian at his feet. The waitress, whom Emma now noticed had two streaks of red amongst the earthy tone of her flat-ironed hair, bounced her way over to where she was sitting and leaned her elbows on the counter before asking,

"What can I get for you?" She smiled without teeth, stretching her crimson-stained lips into a curved line.

"Just coffee please, with cream." Emma stated.

The waitress looked at her with an eyebrow sharply raised, her lips pursed in a smirk.

"What?" Emma scoffed.

"How far along are you?" she asked with an air of knowing. Emma's look of confusion turned to defensive, and the girl could only continue. "I saw you walk in."

Emma watched her eyes flick towards her stomach and then return to her gaze, eyebrows raised.

"Seriously?" She groaned, "Fine. I'll have," she let out a pointed breath, "Hot chocolate, with whip cream, and a dash of cinnamon on top.

"Coming right up," the brunette responded with a satisfied smile, and flitted toward the nack. But a moment later she continued, speaking louder than before to make up for the distance, "You never answered my question."

"And what's that?" Emma said, still pouting in her spot at the counter.

"How far along are you?" she echoed from the far side of the space behind the bar. Her back was turned as she filled the mugs with the warm brown liquid from a chrome cylinder stationed in the corner.

"Almost six months, I think. Yeah…" Emma said softly, realizing how long she had really been on the road.

"Well congratulations. My name is Ruby by the way. I don't think we've met, you must be new in town," the waitress chirped after topping the drinks and making her way back to where Emma sat slumped and distracted.

"Emma." The blonde uttered her name almost automatically, still lost in her thoughts. But quickly the smell of the cocoa and cinnamon wafted into her nose and broke her trance. She looked up and was surprised to see two mugs on the counter, with Ruby standing behind them, patiently waiting for Emma to realize she was there and take hers.

"Uh, I only ordered one," Emma informed her.

"I know," Ruby replied, still as chipper as ever, "the other one's not for you. It's for someone else." She paused and looked at the two mugs, a thought coming to her. "Although it _is _curious that you both like cinnamon on your hot chocolate."

As quickly as the thought had come, it vanished from her eyes and she began another sentence. "I just prepared it early; she hasn't actually come in yet. But I knew that she would order this, she always does. She comes every Friday evening at this time, after she finishes grading tests for her students. She teaches fourth grade at the local school." Ruby crossed back toward the kitchen to start storing the left-over food for closing.

"I mean, to be honest, I shouldn't even let her in the door anymore. I understood when it was once a month, but every Friday? I've been meaning to take her out sometime. I don't think she does much more than eat here, teach her kids, and volunteer around town." It had become clear that despite her worries and complaints about the woman, Ruby considered her a friend. And when Emma asked about this she responded with an, "Oh, yes of course. Our friendship is just, unconventional, I guess."

" This woman sounds like a _nun_," Emma drawled, taking a swipe of the whip cream with her finger and sucking it off with concentration and a pleasured smile.

"You know, we could be good friends you and I, I thinks it's because you remind me of her, in some weird, twisted, sarcastic, cynical, brooding sort of way," Ruby stated with a shrug.

Emma looked at her with confusion-tinged judgment. "How would you even come to that conclusion? We haven't known each other for more than 10 minutes. You don't know anything."

"I don't know," she replied, her eyes twitching upward in thought, "Maybe it's like a sixth sense."

Just as Ruby finished the sentence, the door's hanging bell rang its ceremonious jingle, and a young woman with a small frame and cropped dark hair came through. The door shut loudly, and she jumped slightly as she made her way to her typical place at the counter where her drink was waiting. She swung her purse off her shoulder and set it gently on the floor beside her stool, gave a wave to the carrot-headed man at the nearby table, and shouted a quick thank you to Ruby, who had since made her way behind the large doors to the back kitchen.

Even though there was a seat between them, Emma felt uncomfortably close to her, but was too afraid of offending the woman to move over one more. Possibly the claustrophobic feelings were from knowing too much without ever even having exchanged a word with her. Not that she was planning to start a conversation anytime soon.

Somewhere deep down she felt bad for the analysis that she knew was about to consume her mind, but she couldn't help it. Certain people were easier to figure out than others. This woman, whose name she was still unaware of, was the embodiment of her stereotype. No boyfriend, if there had ever been one, quiet, shy, no children so she instead channeled her need for love into teaching other people's children, and maybe a cat or two. However, her sweater, which was neatly button up to her collarbone, _eugh_, didn't show a trace of animal hair. But Emma was still sure of most of her conclusions.

The woman must have begun to sense the staring because her head turned toward Emma and for a second did a double take and her expression took a form of wonder, before the moment passed, and she was looking with an again sweet expression. But a second later her gaze went back to her mug and she swirled the bubbles of melted whipped cream methodically, as if the moment hadn't really occurred in the first place.

Within the next ten minutes, the diner slowly emptied until only the three women remained. The two at the counter were clearly happy to reside only in their thoughts, but Ruby could contain herself no longer.

"Wow. You two are depressing," she exuded from her station near the sinks. "You, Mary Margaret, are young, single, have the potential to be incredibly hot were you to permit me to make some adjustments to your style—or lack thereof—and yet you are sitting in my grandmother's diner at 8:30 on a Friday night."

"And _you,"_ she said suddenly pointing her attention towards Emma, "Can't be more than a teenager. This is the prime of your life, what are you doing in a town like Storybrooke?" Her tone was slowly becoming more sympathetic, "I mean, I understand that the whole being pregnant thing can kind of ruin the whole chance at a good time thing, but go somewhere besides Maine if you're given the choice! Do you know what I'd give to get out of here?"

As if on cue, Mary Margaret glanced back to the blonde seated two stools over and her eyes meandered to her abdomen, hidden mostly underneath the oversized sweatshirt that the was clothed in. An unfamiliar emotion came over her. She would admit that she had always been drawn to pregnant women; she thought there was something so beautiful about creating another life, and she dreamed to someday find someone to do that with. But in the most recent years she had found herself feeling more alone than before, but something about this other woman was bringing back her desire for love and family again.

Emma suddenly spoke, breaking her from her thoughts. "Hey you wanna trade?" She asked, directed clearly at Ruby. "I promise, you haven't lived until you've vomited every day for two months and then experienced heartburn like no other. And the best part? Your boobs hurt like you can't even imagine." The context of her words was bitter, but she couldn't help laughing at the slightly horrified and embarrassed look on Ruby's face in response to her many revelations.

"You know Ruby, at the rate you're going, you might be able to have a baby with any man you want, in Storybrooke, in the next month," Mary Margaret snorted into her almost empty mug.

Ruby's nostrils flared and she turned back toward the kitchen in a huff. "Well fine, you two can be boring all by yourselves."

For a minute Emma sat there, surprised and somehow proud of this woman sitting next to her. As she gawked she couldn't help but laugh to herself at the irony of the situation. The entire time that they had occupied this space together, she had expected nothing but sweet, docile sentences to emerge from Mary Margaret's mouth; _especially_ with a name like Mary Margaret. I mean, did this woman drop out of the bible or what? And yet in the previous moments she had proven herself capable of multiple things; a sense of humor, comedic timing, and a stubborn streak that wouldn't allow her to be poked fun at.

But before Emma could comment on the change in tides, Mary Margaret rose from her seat, left some cash on the counter, grabbed her purse, and started for the door. Just as she turned the doorknob to exit, she swiveled herself around and faced Emma, who had already been watching her leave, and spoke. "It was nice meeting you…." She paused, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"Emma," the young woman responded. This response had truly been the same word as the last time she spoke it, yet she felt as though the way in which it was received gave it more value than it'd had earlier in the evening.

"Emma," she echoed, her voice lingering on each dripping syllable. "I'll see you around sometime." She smiled one last time, and with that she left, and Emma sat alone once again.

Glancing at the clock, Emma decided that rest would be imperative, and instead of bothering Ruby once more, she copied Mary Margaret's amount and vacated the small diner. The air had grown crisp in the half an hour that she had stayed inside, and she wrapped the thin hoodie tighter around the only entirely warm spot on her body. She could feel the baby fluttering in her stomach as she clipped quickly to her car and got inside, thankful for the preserved temperature within its metal structure. She slowly reclined her seat, and shifted to her side to reach beneath it and pull out a large blanket.

Once she was in a comfortable position, she slid the tan folder from between the seat and the storage compartment and opened it, as was her nightly ceremony. As the years had gone on she had found that even something as simple as a representation of hope helped her sleep better. After a quick glance through it she set in on the passenger seat and curled into herself once more, to prepare for sleep. Before finally drifting into her dreams she slipped her hand under her shirt and rubbed her stomach before whispering, "We're in this together kid. You and me; always."

**I owe all of the correct grammar and nice flow-y sentences to my AMAZING beta 7Seven7. Her fanfics are gorgeous, and inspiring. Go ahead and check her out if you haven't yet! I hope this was a good start. After this chapter, the Emma/MM stuff is only going to increase. Thanks for taking this ride with me. *cough* reviews appreciated *cough***


	2. Sigh No More

**Wow. I was completely blown away by the reviews and follows, that was incredibly overwhelming to say the least! I think I might've had a mini heart attack. But never fear, I have recovered enough to post another chapter. **

**Note: Each chapter is named after a Mumford & Sons song. I am a huge fan of their music, and a lot of it was my inspiration for this story.**

**SIGH NO MORE**

The rapping of knuckles on the glass of her passenger side window was a sound that Emma Swan was all too familiar with. On more than one occasion passersby had called the local officials when they noticed a young girl sleeping in a car alone; whether out of pity or fear of her intentions in their town, she could never decide. She would wake to that hollow tapping, make up some excuse along the lines of she'd had a fight with her boyfriend, took off in her car to clear her head, and got too tired to drive all of the way back. Playing the 'I wanted to be responsible and pull over to sleep for the night so as not to endanger other drivers' card seemed to be the key. Not soon after the exchange she would depart from the small town, and drive until she reached the next. She preferred to stay in towns with fewer people, the residents tended to ask fewer questions.

So when she woke to that rhythmic noise, she wasn't alarmed, surprised, or even angry. It was routine, she knew how the rest of her morning was going to go, already. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, felt her muscles contracting as her body stretched, and leaned across the passenger seat to turn the handle to roll down the window.

"Look," she started, "I'm sorry I'm sleeping in my car, it's just…."

"You're in a no parking zone." A creamily accented voice interrupted gruffly.

"Oh, I'm sorry.." she genuinely tried apologize, but was again cut short by what she could see was essentially a pair of dark pants and a badge.

"The ticket is forty dollars for the first offense." The officer bent down and met her eyes, leaning his tablet on the edge of the window and beginning to write down her offense.

"Seriously?!" she moaned, "It was one time. And you can't honestly expect me to be able to pay this."

His eyes flashed a hint of hesitation before responding in a forced tone of authority. "I regret to inform you that it's the law. You violated a sign in the town, and the mayor will not stand for such violations in Storybrooke."

The officer's best attempts to hide his humanity might have slipped by any other person, but Emma was perceptive and she had him pegged before he spoke the word "regret.

"Yeah," she responded slyly, "But you're not going to ticket me. That's just not who you are. And really, how much power does one mayor have? Not that you'd even respect it, given the choice. What I think you are going to do, is absorb what I'm saying, realize that you're cornered, take sympathy on the poor homeless, and pregnant, teenager, and let me off with just a warning."

"Oh really….?" He couldn't help but laugh at the very apparent confidence exuded by the young woman before him. It almost seemed familiar but he couldn't place his finger on it.

"Yep, and it's too late to decide otherwise, I fear. For my witting charm has already played you into my hands." In reality the confidence was just a mask, a form of protection or manipulation when needed, that Emma used from time to time.

Much to his dismay, her 'witting charm' _had_ already manipulated him. He admired it, not for the fact that he was played, but because very few people had the gift of being able to accomplish such a task.

"Fine," he breathed, "I will not ticket you this time, but please try to follow the rest of the town's rules and signs?

She tried to hide the creeping smile brought on by yet another victory. "Well, thank you," she added, emphasizing the sweetness in her voice.

"You know," he replied, attempting to steer away from the previous, and slightly embarrassing subject, "There is a hotel, well an inn… Granny's, here in town. They always have vacancies, you could check there for a place to stay."

"I couldn't afford that even if I wanted to," she retorted, still trying her best to sound docile.

He began to feel sympathetic, and his eyes wandered as he searched for a way to help the young girl, until they landed on an open file in the seat to her right. It was rather orderly, and judging by the density, she had gathered her information well, and had been thorough.

"You know," he began hesitantly, "We _are_ looking for someone to help put together the files for our cases down at the station? And to answer phones, work on the computers, and run errands…."

Sensing his sympathy Emma argued, "You just feel bad for me, how would you even know my capabilities in a stuffy old office."

"Oh it's not stuffy I promise," he laughed, "And we have donuts. Some of the stereotypes _are_ true. Fortunately."

She eyed him, still doubting his sincerity.

"Look. I already know you can put together a file," he said glancing toward her passenger seat.

"Hey, that's personal. Why are all cops such snoops?" She whipped the folder off the seat and held it close, almost as if she was trying to hide what she knew deep down her had already seen.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Do you want the job or not? Final offer."

"Well if you're gonna offer it, who am I to turn down money?" She threw her blanket into the backseat and emerged from the driver's side door. "So when do I start?"

"How about you meet me at the station in an hour?" He slid his hands into his pockets and smiled warmly.

"Sure. I mean, Aye-Aye Captain," she added with a salute and a playful sneer.

"Actually, it's Sheriff. But you can call me Graham." His teeth shone white between his lips as his smiled once more and extended his hand for a shake. Emma took it hesitantly but relaxed upon feeling its warmth and returned the smile with slightly less brightness. Maybe she could finally start new, or at least save some cash as a reserve. Her supplies were getting low and eventually she'd have to settle somewhere. It would be impossible to be on the road with a newborn.

A _newborn_. The thought of having to care for another human life was cripplingly petrifying, but Emma quickly shoved the thought aside and turned back toward the street. As the Sheriff departed, she got back into her car and stashed the file back in its resting place. Maybe putting down some roots wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it wouldn't turn out the same way as it had last time. _Maybe._

* * *

In the end, the Sheriff had been correct in his assumption that Emma would have a knack for organizing and putting together files, however she was not quite as adept with the phones. After two hours on the job, and six miserable phone exchanges, Graham finally stepped in, trying to contain the childish laughter that was pushing at his throat.

"Emma, why don't we take a break from the phones for a while?" he offered.

"Why?" she replied, completely unaware of her lack of phone etiquette. In her mind she had done incredibly well, despite having to deal with incompetent townspeople calling in about EVERY. SINGLE. LITTLE. INCONVENIENCE OR ISSUE. These calls were utter nonsense; either there was a wolf sighted in the local cemetery, or Ruby's shorts were too short and 'she should be cited,' or an elderly woman's cat was up a tree. The advice Emma had offered them had been simple; she felt that these people should deal with it themselves. What kind of Sheriff's station went out in search of a clearly non-existent wolf?

"Well, and I don't want to offend you, but I don't think you're quite used to this town enough to understand how to deal with some of the issues that people call in with," Graham answered hesitantly, unsure of how Miss Swan took criticism.

"What? Seriously? These people call in with the most pathetic issues, how can they honestly expect you to handle them? You have other work to do."

"But I'm the Sheriff," he defended quickly, "Making the residents of Storybrooke happy is my job, no matter what it is that makes that happen."

Emma could feel her blood pressure rising and her face was hot. Criticism was _definitely_ not something that she responded to well. Or maturely, for that matter. Maybe she was just angry at herself for being bad at something, for possibly ruining her chances at finding some damn stability in her life. Nonetheless, she stood up fuming, embarrassed, and pointing all of her resentment at Graham, and stated,

"I'm taking my lunch." She turned on her heel and swiftly marched out of the office, barely taking the time to grab her wallet and keys off the desk.

Graham watched with amusement and shouted after her, "I never said you could take a lu.." But he was interrupted by a dismissive wave over the shoulder as Emma turned the corner, her blonde curls following close behind. Despite the bumps, Graham was happy to have Emma working with him. It had been too long since he'd had humor in his day and actually felt something. He realized that he felt complete.

* * *

Coffee and fatty food. That was all that Emma needed when she was uncontrollably angry about something that she knew was only her fault. Normally it might've been alcohol or a cigarette and some fatty food, but those habits had been kicked just short of five months ago.

She burst into the diner and took a seat at the counter, one of only two open spots left. The small restaurant was bustling with people; it was loud, stuffy—and quite frankly, annoying—but Emma was hungry and bitter, so she quickly caught Ruby's attention and began her order.

"One Chicken Bacon Grilled, a large basket of fries, the House Chili, the Fettuccine Alfredo, a large chocolate milkshake, and one cup of coffee," she demanded, hardly taking a breath.

Ruby barely had time to give her the same look as the night before, before she was called to another table. If she weren't so busy she would have spent more time guilt-tripping Emma into removing the coffee from her order. But given that the lunch rush was at hand, she let it go and hurried to the next table of waiting customers.

The wait for the food was longer than Emma had expected, but after fifteen minutes, her food arrived and the diner's crowd had begun to thin out, much to her relief. Being in a small building with that many strangers always made her uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

Just as she lifted her spoon to dive into her chili, the door swung open and an incredibly flustered Mary Margaret came rushing through, mumbling to herself. She bustled to the stools and took the seat directly to Emma's right. Without pause she called to Ruby,

"Ruby, I am so sorry but can you make me something really fast? Anything is fine." Her voiced lowered slightly, "I can't believe I forgot my lunch today, I'm never forgetful like this, and my students will be waiting…."

Emma stared at her with amusement scrawled across her face and she couldn't help but snicker to herself at the state of the schoolteacher whom she'd once thought was always put together.

Ruby, whose hair was beginning to frizz from her constant movement in and out of the steamy kitchen area, called back in a cracking and clearly stressed voice, "I'll try Mary Margaret but I've got tons of customers right now. I'm sorry." Her face looked scrunched and her eyes were wide, but slowly she appeared to be gaining control.

Emma, after observing the loud exchange looked at the array of food before her- knowing very well that she would be unable to eat it all, and somehow feeling as though she owed the brunette to her right something—looked at Mary Margaret and offered, "You can have one of my dishes if you want."

Mary Margaret looked towards her, surprised. "Oh thank you, but no. I could never take your food."

"No, seriously, pick one. I'm fat enough as it is," she stated with a snort, gesturing her belly, "And besides, I didn't really need all this food, it was more of an impulsive order in a moment of stress."

"Really? Only if you're sure…"

"Yes, here, pick one." Emma sat back and then proceeded to give Mary Margaret the Alfredo, upon her, still hesitant, request.

Returning to her chili, she felt oddly satisfied with the fact that she had just made someone else's day a little better. This town really wasn't turning out to be as bad as she had expected. She had a job, a few acquaintances, and maybe she would look for a room for rent at the end of the day. All throughout her contemplation, she could feel eyes watching her sporadically. She glanced sideways at Mary Margaret, who looked away quickly. A moment later her eyes returned and she looked straight at Emma.

"What?" she asked, simultaneously confused and entertained by the woman's attempt at being inconspicuous.

Mary Margaret shrugged in reply with a slight lift of the eyebrow and said, "Nothing. I just noticed you were drinking coffee." The nonchalant look on her face crashed with the tone in her voice, and Emma suddenly felt like a child who'd broken the rules.

"Fine!" she spoke loudly, as if declaring it to the entire diner. "Are you happy now? The pregnant girl won't drink coffee." It wasn't even worth the fight. She slid her mug away from her spot, towards the schoolteacher. "Here," she said with purposely exaggerated gusto, "Do you want this?"

"Why thank you," Mary replied, trying valiantly to hide her growing smirk.

Emma sighed. Whoever this woman was, she definitely wasn't what she seemed at first glance. Not that Emma minded it, really. Oddly, she felt drawn to her, despite the fact that they seemed to share little in common.

A few minute later, she wiped her mouth, having finished her meal in record time, and paid the bill before turning to leave.

"Oh, Emma!" Mary Margaret interrupted her exit. "I meant to pay for my dish. Here," she attempted to hand her a ten dollar bill, "Thank you."

"That's too much, really." Emma waved her hands. "It's fine."

"No," Mary Margaret placed the bill down, pancaking it between their hands, "Take it." She looked into Emma's eyes and smiled.

Emma felt almost frozen there, and her chest grew warm, but she broke from it and blinked away the sensation. "Thanks," she replied with a half smile, and turned back to exit the diner.

Walking back to the station she suddenly felt embarrassed for how she had acted toward Graham. Upon her arrival she began spewing an apology, but he stopped her.

"It's fine." He smiled as though it had never happened. "How about I try and help you this time?"

He waved to the desk, she took a seat and he stood behind her, waiting for a call.

Later that night, Emma sat in her car, parked carefully in an 'okay parking' zone that Graham had informed her of, and for once let the silence fill her head with thoughts. Once again the file sat in the seat next to her, somehow exuding comfort, and she reflected on the town known as Storybrooke. Despite her original rudeness, or her mistakes, everyone she had encountered had been kind and forgiving. Much different than the people of the other towns that she had driven through. What was she doing differently?

The car suddenly grew stuffy, and she clamored for the handle, swinging the door open wide.

"Oh!" Someone cried out in shock.

Emma looked out eyes wide, expecting to be chastised, but she found Mary Margaret standing there, one hand on her heart, her face slowly fading from fear and surprise to a smile.

"Sorry, you just scared me. That was quite the dramatic outburst over a car door opening. I'm almost embarrassed." She laughed at herself.

"No. I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Emma spluttered in reply. She scanned the teacher's apparel, a dress and small heels, her hair was swept neatly, and she was wearing more make-up than earlier that day. "Wait, what are you doing out at this time? Looking like that…?" Suddenly the worry she felt at having made the teacher angry had passed and she was amused that the seemingly boyfriend-less teacher might have been on a date.

"Oh it was nothing." She blushed. "A date. But it wasn't exactly a good one." She shoved it aside, clearly not wanting to discuss it. She glanced at Emma and then tilted her head as she noticed the contents of her car: a blanket, a brown folder, and some boxes in the back seat.

"Emma, are you living here?" she asked, worry floating in her voice.

"Oh. Yeah," she said with a shrug, "But it's not bad, really. I don't mind being alone." Truthfully Emma was still at a point in her life where she would prefer to have company now and then, but allowing others to see that would make her appear weak. And she wasn't weak.

"Oh, okay. Well…." Mary Margaret paused and gave it a second's thought. Should she really make this offer? To someone she barely knew? But this girl was young, and she looked helpless—even if she didn't know it—and there was that _something_ about her. She sighed internally. "If you ever decide that you want a place to live, I do have an extra room available."

"Thanks," Emma replied, "But I'm okay. And I'm not entirely alone," her hand fell to her stomach, "And as far as tight spots I've been in go, this situation is actually pretty good." She smiled, hoping to assure the concerned looking woman of her safety and comfort.

"Alright, well I guess I will see you around then?" Mary Margaret gave a warm smile, despite being somewhat disappointed at the blonde's kind denial of the offer.

"Yeah," Emma replied. She reciprocated the wave that was tossed her way as Mary Margaret departed towards her apartment. She could feel the odd sweetness o the moment lingering even for minutes after it had ended. After seeing the time, Emma repeated her nightly routine, and hunkered down for another night. Luckily sleep came quickly, and she drifted off the night grew darker and the silence filled the crevices of her dreams.

Unbeknownst to her, across town a slender woman with dark hair that wove past her ears sat in her office sorting documents like she did at the end of every day, always accompanied by a glass or two of wine. The light of the single lit lamp cast shadows off her defined jawline as she bent over her oaken desk. A soft plodding of footsteps, and another tapping sound, approached the doorway and she looked up toward her uninvited visitor.

She suddenly grew angry at having been bothered, partially because of the identity of the trespasser.

"What do you want, Gold?" she snapped.

"Why, I'm here to speak to you about a possible common interest, Madam Mayor," his voice oozed as he addressed her.

"And what is that?" A common interest with Gold meant sacrifices on her part, and trickery on his.

He paused, an impish grin forming on his face. Finally he hissed, "A baby."

**Thanks again to my beautiful beta, 7Seven7, and I hope you liked it. Next chapter will be up the day after tomorrow as promised.**


	3. Nothing is Written

**Seriously crying in a corner over here guys. The response has been so humbling. Thank you all so much. All of the feedback is so appreciated. Note: The rest of the chapters won't be this long I think. It was mainly the first three that were the big mommas.**

**NOTHING IS WRITTEN**

Finally, after her fourth day of work, Emma Swan felt comfortable. Not that she had been _uncomfortable_ before, just not entirely comfortable. Life was slowly forming into a routine once more, something she hadn't realized that she missed until she'd found it again.

Graham sat in his office, and she, at his request, had finally begun sorting the drawers upon drawers of files that resided, untouched, in the cabinets lining the wall opposite the windows. She blew what seemed like a centimeter of dust off the top, and coughed as it puffed in her direction.

"Seriously," she called out to the Sheriff, "How long have these been in here? They look like they haven't been opened since the dark ages." Another cloud overcame her and she sneezed.

With a wipe of her nose, she removed a handful of folders and sat back against the side of her desk. Despite the dusty condition of the files, the people in them looked modern. The hairstyles, even the clothing, appeared up to date. Most of the cases were uninteresting; a number of them referred to a particular "public drunkenness" offender by the name of Leroy, and a few regarded break-ins at a local pawn shop. But for the most part, they only confirmed Emma's suspicions that nothing exciting ever happened in the town of Storybrooke.

Quickly getting bored, Emma flipped through them with hardly a second glance and began sorting them into piles. Grabbing a stack of three labeled 'unsolved,' she halted her movement to set them aside and opened the one on top. The file was small, a few pages of handwritten information at most, and an overexposed photo of a young man in what appeared to be a hospital bed. The name at the front read _John Doe_.

Emma stood, the folder still in hand, and turned toward Graham's office. "Hey! Sheriff man!" she called out, "I've got some unfinished files here."

He rose from his chair and sauntered into the open area of the office, a quizzical look on his face. "Unfinished?" he asked.

"Yeah. Unless you just never physically completed them." She looked at his face, surprised by his confusion. "Do you know whatever happened to this John Doe? I can't imagine that he's_ still_ in the hospital," she explained.

Graham's confusion only grew. "I don't know. I can't even remember building this file." He paused, scratching his scruff methodically, before coming to a decision. "Why don't we head down to the hospital and talk to Dr. Whale. Maybe he'll remember this fellow."

Quickly they departed, Graham driving, and Emma allowing her eyes to wander, taking in the parts of the town that she hadn't noticed before. There were more homes than she'd thought, some tucked back in culdesacs, others behind large gardens and trees. One was even a putrid pink color. _Whoever painted that house must be quite the cat lady type._

Within minutes they arrived and shuffled up the few flights of stairs that it took to get to the floor where Dr. Whale worked. Graham turned to Emma saying, "Wait here, I'll go talk to him and then come back and let you know."

She responded with a huff and a "fine," knowing that is wasn't worth an argument. She instead wandered into the large multi-patient care room and glanced over the numerous sick and injured. Still looking anywhere but ahead, she padded forward and straight into another moving body.

"Oof!" She staggered back and looked up to see—again—an incredibly startled Mary Margaret staring back. A clipboard hung from her left hand and a pen from her right, making it very obvious that she too had been distracted and not watching where she was going.

Suddenly Emma's demeanor changed from feeling slightly upset at whomever had run into her to curiosity as to why the young teacher was at a hospital. "What are you doing here?" she spluttered, composing herself as much as possible.

"I, I volunteer here. What are _you_ doing here?" Mary Margaret replied, clearly as shocked as the woman before her.

"Sheriff's department stuff. We're looking into some guy who was unidentified from years ago. Who knows whatever happened to him," she explained.

"Wait," Mary Margaret stopped her suddenly, a look of realization in her eyes, "Short sandy blonde hair, maybe late 20s, Caucasian male?"

"Yeah. Exactly." Emma's head tilted, as the possibility of the situation dawned on her. "Wait, is he here? Like, _seriously_ still here? You have got to be kidding me." Mary Margaret nodded and gestured down the walkway between the rows of beds. Somehow she felt as though she should have seen this coming. But the files seemed so old, how long had this man been here? Her thoughts were again interrupted by Graham who approached swiftly.

"He's still here," he breathed.

"Yeah. I know." Emma laughed. "But good try though," she toyed, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"You do? How?" Graham was astounded at the young woman.

She responded by walking in the direction of the enclosed room at the end, and said, "How about we ask irrelevant questions later, and just go check this guy out, huh?"

Graham followed suit without hesitation and the two of them, accompanied by a still curious Mary Margaret entered through the glass doors. The area was stark and quiet, aside from the beeping of his heart monitor.

"He's been here as long as I can remember," Mary Margaret spoke sadly. "No one has ever found out who he is or where he came from."

Emma, after taking a moment to acknowledge that he looked virtually the same as in the image from his case, waltzed to the side of the bed, picked up his left hand and announced, "No ring."

"He may not have even had anyone looking for him, anyone that cared. That happens," she continued, trying her best to not make it apparent that she knew from experience.

She set his has down lightly upon Graham's look of disapproval at having touched the patient, and stuck her hand in her pocket. It felt weird, almost fuzzy, but she tried her best to ignore it and continued to converse with Mary Margaret and the Sheriff.

"Well, we know he's here I suppose. Maybe we should go back to the station for now and try to restart the investigation. I can't imagine how he slipped through my fingers," Graham thought aloud.

Giving a nod of assent, Emma followed him, and then watched as Mary Margaret pulled the drapes to John Doe's room closed. Upon seeing the question in her eyes, the brunette responded, "Visiting hours are ending, I'm just settling him in for the night."

If Emma hadn't known any better she would've thought that Mary Margaret knew the man, and cared for him more than any other normal patient. The two women moved towards Graham who spoke once again to Dr. Whale, making sure that he knew enough information before departing for the night.

Dr. Whale spoke softly, "Here is his medical file, I'm sorry we don't know more. His condition hasn't changed in all of the time that he's been a patient here."

"And how long has that been?" Emma interrupted.

"I can't say," Dr. Whale responded with a scratch of his head, "I honestly don't remember his arrival, he's just always been here. I'd never thought about it."

In some ways the extensive questions around this anonymous man struck Emma. How do you lose track of a patient that much? Especially one without anyone who truly cared for him.

"Oh, my purse," Mary Margaret whispered, turning back toward the patient care facility.

"Well thank you," Graham continued the conversation, "If anything does change, however, please contact me. I am going to do my best to find out who this man is."

Graham was so confident in himself; Emma found herself admiring that sometimes, even though she hadn't known him all that long. And he had been kind enough to offer her a job and words of advice. It was actually a disappointment that there were so many years between them. He had to be near 30. But she could always use a big brother type, even if he was unfortunately good-looking. She could feel her cheeks growing pink, so she turned away, only to be looking straight at a paler than usual Mary Margaret, who was hastily making her way back to the group.

"He's gone!" she cried. She wrung her hands and her eyes were wide, staring at almost nothing.

Emma asked for clarification, but she already knew the answer. She rushed toward the drape-covered room note even taking a second to notice the two men running close behind. The group rushed into the room and Emma suddenly grew cold. The bed was empty; all the remained were wires, lying loosely and lifeless on the bed. Much like that man had been, not five minutes before.

Her eyes flashed around the room rapidly, _where had he gone?_ A sudden breeze caught her chilled face and she looked to the source. A door. The only way out. She moved quickly to it and looked out.

"The woods. How the _hell_ are we going to find him in the woods?" Her face was riddled with multiple emotions; shock, worry, anger even. But upon looking back at the crowd of people with matching expressions gave her a sudden surge of willpower. "We have to find him. He's out there. _Alone_."

The trio quickly nodded in assent. The commanding teenager before them was the only one who'd kept her head together enough to react properly to the situation at hand, and for that, Graham was grateful. However, before she could step out the door he stopped her.

"Emma, why don't I lead? I'm more familiar with the woods. Dr. Whale you stay here in case he comes back. Mary Margaret, you may come with us or stay. It's your choice." Suddenly over the initial shock of the situation, he directed his orders eloquently.

"I'll come, if you don't mind," she smiled half-heartedly. Her mind was still trained on John Doe. Why had he suddenly awoken? And why would he leave? That was what bothered her the most. He left. He tugged at her in an odd way. As if he had left her personally.

* * *

The woods—the trees, the dirt, sticks, bugs, and all else—was definitely Graham's element. That became very apparent very quickly. So much so that Emma found herself having difficulty trying to keep up with his pace. Kindly, Mary Margaret held back with her, and didn't comment. Graham bent to the earth, shuffling some leaves between his fingers and tracing an impression in the soft ground.

"He can't be too far," he announced, his voice ragged. He raced ahead, much too Emma's dismay. She stopped for a rest and pressed on her lower back, silently begging for the ache to dissipate.

Mary Margaret took notice and finally decided to speak. "I'll wait with you if you'd like. You should rest."

"Yeah," Emma grimaced, "Thanks." She truly meant the gratitude; she just wasn't exactly good at showing it.

"So…" Mary Margaret spoke hesitantly, breaking the silence that had been looming for almost a minute. "If don't mind my asking, how did you end up in Storybrooke? You seem young to be on your own."

Emma looked at her almost startled at the woman's care to know about her. "Oh, you know, typical story. Bad boyfriend. Knocked up, ran away."

Mary Margaret's face softened slightly, "How old are you then?" Her head tilted slightly as she gazed at Emma.

Emma hesitated. Revealing her age would only garner more questions, but Mary was so kind, and she almost pulled Emma to respond to her every question, whether she wanted to or not. Finally the young blonde sighed, "Eighteen." She watched the transition in the expression of her companion; her forehead wrinkling as she pondered and processed the word, and then her eyes lighting slightly upon some sort of mental deduction.

"But surely you must have parents that are worrying about you," Mary Margaret finally spoke.

Another sigh. "No family, no parents. Not any that care enough to worry, anyways."

Emma hated discussing her past, or present, rather.

"What about frien…" Mary Margaret halted mid-word seeing Emma's face fall upon completing the sentence in her head. "Oh. Well I'm very sorry." She was trying her best to be sincere, but her heart ached for the young woman who looked so _alone_.

Suddenly a shout pierced the darkness of the woods. The two women shot up quickly and ran towards the sound. Before their eyes materialized Graham's shadow, bent over a human form. Mary Margaret rushed ahead, crouching down to the lifeless body, checking for a pulse, or breathing, or _something_ to show her that this man hadn't given up. Rapidly she made compressions on his chest, and Graham rose and stood back. She paused the pumping and pressed her mouth on his, and with a pinch of his nose, tried fervently to breathe the life back into him. She repeated this and repeated this, but nothing was happening. She suddenly grew angry at him, he left her. She took her fists and with a cry of defeat launched them onto his chest and let her body slump forward. In one motion, she landed and his body suddenly convulsed upward and he coughed, water lurching from his mouth, and his eyes opening wide in terror.

Mary Margaret and Emma each breathed in shrilly, bringing their hand to their lips. John Doe's pupils dilated and into focus came a kind face, but he didn't know it. She smiled at him and asked quietly, "Who are you?" Who was he, his brain scattered in a million directions and suddenly all memory failed him.

"I don't know," was all he could say. He didn't know. He was a nameless man.

* * *

The doctors fluttered around him, pressing stickers onto his chest, checking his blood pressure, monitoring his every move. From afar he looked helpless, frightened, and all she could do was watch. Mary Margaret stood outside the glass wall of his room and kept her gaze on him steady. He looked at her, his face pale and lost; but no matter what, she never left his eyes.

Within minutes, the rush died down and the nurses insisted that he get some rest. They shut his blinds again and he felt himself tensing as he watched her face disappear behind the dark veil. But all he had to do was shut his eyes, and she was there again.

Mary Margaret, after squeezing every last bit of information that she could out of the nurse, departed alone, for Emma and the sheriff had already left. She walked out of the building knowing that her lonely apartment would only bode poorly for her fragile emotions. It had been a rollercoaster of a day and she knew that the company of only her thoughts would drown her in worry for the anonymous soul that she had left behind at the hospital.

Walking alone near the diner was another young woman with blonde curls that hung loosely as she hugged her arms into her chest. Her boots tapped along the cement rhythmically, and her mind allowed the sound to block out her wandering consciousness. A shadow appeared behind her and she jumped, only to be faced with a warm smile.

"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you dear," the mayor spoke kindly. "I'm Regina, the mayor of Storybrooke." She extended her hand steadily, hoping not to frighten the young girl.

Emma took her hand and shook firmly. "Don't worry about the scare, it's just been one of the nights."

"Well I apologize, nonetheless. Actually I was looking for you, Emma, is it?" she inquired.

"Yes," she responded, surprise gracing her features.

"I asked Ruby at the diner," she informed her, trying to relieve any worry. "I was hoping to welcome you to town, we don't get many new residents. I actually baked you a pie, it was nothing really, just an old recipe of me." She suddenly procured a foil wrapped circle from the shadows of her left arm.

"Oh," Emma stopped walking turning to receive the gift, surprised once again. "Uh, thank you." She took the dessert, still warm on the bottom into her hands and looked at the well kept woman before her. The pearls around her neck shone brightly into the darkening night sky.

"I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to welcome you with a little gesture. I now it can be hard to be on your own sometimes, so I thought a home-baked pastry might brighten your day. Kind of like a mother would make. At least like mine." She smiled, beginning to turn back towards the direction from which she came. "I do hope you like apples."

And with that, the mayor was gone, walking off into the blackness. Emma stood still, struck by both the gift and the words spoken by the dark haired woman. _On your own. Like a mother would make._ The phrases echoed in her head, suddenly making her feel incredibly alone. There had been far too much talk of family that day, and far too many repressed emotions. But she couldn't let herself be buried in one weak moment of solitariness, so almost on impulse she began to walk in the opposite direction of the previously departed mayor.

Mary Margaret sat on her couch with a blanket wrapped from her feet to her shoulder, and her right hand subconsciously twirling a green-stoned ring around and around on her center finger. As she had predicted she was consumed by her thoughts and her body felt small, and sad. And alone. So many people she knew were alone. It almost seemed to be the running trend of the day. As she sat and allowed her empty apartment to drift in and out of focus, she almost wished to not be alone.

A sudden knocking at her door drew her from her place on the couch, and she hesitantly opened the door. On the other side was Emma, who stood still but appeared to be internally fighting with herself over something.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come," she said on impulsive and attempted to scurry away.

"Emma wait," Mary Margaret's kind voice commanded, "What did you need?" She beckoned the girl back to her, and oddly she obeyed.

"I, I just…." she exhaled. "I was wondering if you still had an extra room. I mean, I know I don't have the rent yet but I've got a job now and I really think I can….." The words suddenly spewed from her mouth rapidly as her nerves overcame her.

Mary Margaret quickly interrupted, "Of course." She felt herself smile as she opened the door to the wide eyed young girl, who subsequently held up a dish.

"I have a pie…." she offered, stepping inside. To be honest, she still felt apprehensive about her decision. She hadn't lived in one place for an extended amount of time, but also hadn't felt drawn to do so until this moment. She returned the smile and walked about the welcoming living room. Maybe this _could_ be home. If even for a little while.

_Outside, in the center of town, something strange happened. For the first time in 18 years, the large clock tower moved. A simple tick was the only sound it made, as it changed to 11:42. But the sound nor the time held the gravity of the moment. Only one particular teenager did; sitting at a cozy table, sharing a mug of cocoa with her roommate, blissfully unaware of the things to come._

**Quip: I chose 11:42 because 8:15 was too early considering the timeline of the events, AND 11:42 translates to 23:42 in military time (for you LOST fans out there. I know Kitsis and Horowitz love throwing easter eggs in so I thought I'd join)**

**As usual much gratitude to 7Seven7, and thank you for reading :)**


	4. Feel the Tide

**Sooo oops. Sorry about all the typos in the last chapter. I just noticed them after going back to refresh my memory on what I'd written. (I have a bad habit of forgetting that kind of stuff. So it's kinds like reading a new story written by someone else sometimes ahaha) Anyways, I think I upload the unedited version (just typos would've been fixed.) So my apologies, but here's chapter four. I'll read it over one more time to check also.**

**And so the feels begin. This is when it starts getting fun for me. I have been so looking forward to this stuff, so just go read :)**

**FEEL THE TIDE**

"I can't believe that it's taken us three days to get your things up here," Mary Margaret huffed. In reality, the two women had been consumed by their subsequent jobs, and had barely had the time to have dinner together one night and exchange a few words the next.

Emma sat calmly, sorting through a few items, with a couple of boxes scattered about.

"Is this it?" Mary Margaret asked, then blushing upon realizing how brash she'd been in her question. "Oh, I'm sorry, I meant…"

"No, I understand," Emma cut in. "It's not a lot, but yeah this is it. To be honest, I didn't have room for much else. Or much time to pack," then without thinking, mumbling under her breath, "What choice did I have?"

The last to sentences caught Mary Margaret's attention and she attempted to catch Emma's eye as a means of getting a further explanation, but the blonde had already turned to another box and begun sorting without a second thought.

"Mary Margaret," Emma spoke in a tone of question, "Have you found out any more information in regards to John Doe?"

She hadn't actually been back to volunteer in the two days following the time that he awoke, but yesterday she had broken down and visited. He looked healthier but his eyes were still vacant of a real identity.

"Not much, but I think I'll go back again tomorrow, after school, to see him. I can't imagine how frightening it is to be alone; to have no one," she thought aloud. It was true, she wondered about it constantly; what it was like to not know a single soul, yet be completely surrounded by them.

The air tensed around Emma following the latter sentence. Of course she knew Mary Margaret was not in any way directing it at her, but it spoke novels of Emma's life. More than this woman may ever know.

"Oh, Emma," Mary spoke up suddenly, beginning another train of conversation, "I've been meaning to introduce you to someone. Her name is Ella, she was a student of mine many years ago. At least I think she was; I mean, she must've been, it's just difficult to remember. Anyways, she's just a year older than you and I thought you two might get along well. And have some things in common."

Emma looked at her roommate trying hard not to offend her with a snicker. "_Introduce_ us? And what? We'll have a playdate?" She poked fun by adding a grin.

"No…." Mary Margaret playfully swatted Emma on the arm. "You know what I mean."

"Alright, fine. But what exactly is it that we might have _so much_ in common with?" Emma couldn't imagine another person similar to herself living in such a small town. Even _her_ sticking around had been a stretch.

"Okay," Mary Margaret replied, breaking slightly, "She might also be a pregnant teenager, but the POINT IS," she emphasized, seeing Emma's dismissive body language beginning to take over, "I thought you might like having someone to talk to. But it's your choice. Forget I ever said anything."

Emma was somewhat surprised and a little bothered that Mary Margaret didn't seem to think that she could or would talk to _her._ She knew that she hadn't exactly been open, but they'd only known each other for a week.

Starting yet another tangent, Mary Margaret asked, "Are you hungry? I'll go make us some dinner."

One plus side to living with a teacher, who naturally had this compulsive mothering instinct, or need—whatever you want to call it—to care for anyone younger than her? She made you food. And when you were Emma Swan, and didn't know how to cook worth a damn, that was a blessing.

* * *

The pawn shop at the edge of the town center was dark and seemingly vacant; anyone walking by wouldn't give it a second thought. But inside, a power struggle was already forming.

"Alright Gold," the mayor commanded, "I gave her the pie. How about you tell me _why_ you asked me to do so." Her dark eyes flickered against the dancing luminosity of the overhanging light bulb.

"To answer fully, I need to first ask you a question." The slithering voice seeped between his teeth. "Do you remember a particular conversation that we had some time ago? Somewhere along the lines of 'the child is the key'?"

The stare of her Queenly counterpart suddenly overtook Regina and her face fumed with realization. She drank in the now obvious fact that she wasn't the only person in town who held their memories of another land, and then responded. "What do you want with a pregnant teenager…_Rumplestiltskin,_" she hissed. "Besides the obvious."

He looked her up and down and felt empowered upon seeing her hands clenching onto the glass case between them. "Oh," he spoke in his usual eerily calm tone, "Now… You are misunderstanding me, Your Majesty. It's not what _I_ want, but what _you_ want." He paused, drinking in her questioning eyes. "Tell me, have you not noticed where Miss Swan is now residing, and the person to whom she has seemed most drawn? Have you not looked into her eyes and seen the very person that you blame for the death of your beloved?" His final words were directed straight to her heart, piercing it with a thousand needles of memories.

"No," she cried softly, "It's impossible." Not in her town. Not threatening _everything_ she had worked for.

"Is it?" he sneered back with pleasure dripping in his voice.

"Even if it _was_ her, even if she was alive, you said _twenty-eight_ years. She can't be more than eighteen." Regina scrambled to find an explanation, or an excuse, or at least a reason that this woman was not the thing she most feared.

"So there was a flaw in my prediction," Gold responded with a wave of his hand. "But neither of us expected her to get pregnant at such a young age either."

His logic was convincing, and Regina was well aware of that. "Alright fine. Obviously you have some sort of plan for how to take care of this problem, so why don't you share, instead of dancing around it."

"Oh…." he breathed, "You doubt my ability, Your Majesty. I've already set my plan into motion. And _you_ have already been a part of it."

Her eyes widened in question.

"That pie. Although harmless, held great symbolism. I never expected her to actually eat it, for if she is anything like her mother she probably finds herself with an odd distaste for apples. But the origin of that pie was kindness. You gained her trust, if even just a small bit of it. And because she won't eat it, somewhere deep down she will feel guilty that your hard work was tossed aside. This little thought will form a connection between her brain and her picture of you. What we are doing, Your Majesty, is building trust."

Sometimes Rumpelstiltskin's thorough plans and analysis of normally irrelevant things still astounded Regina, even after all of these years. But there was still a piece missing; the purpose. "And what good is trust going to do us?" she asked.

An impish grin grew on his face. "You need to trust someone if you are going to give them your baby don't you?"

"Adoption?" she was surprised, and hoped that her logical jump was indeed what he was implying. "You can't honestly expect me to care for a child."

"Oh, I expect you can," he derided, "And I expect you will. If you want your curse to stay intact."

* * *

Mary Margaret could feel herself smiling after her visit with John Doe. Even though his memory was still void, she could see a change in him. They had talked for close to three hours before the staff had asked her to leave for night hours. His eyes were brighter, he was smiling, and he was lucid enough to play a round or two of hangman and many rounds of go fish. She never would have expected childish games to be so cathartic. Looking at his face had made her feel almost at peace, and their conversations felt like some of many they'd had over a larger span of time. It was all so familiar, but with the way she had been feeling in the recent days, _everything_ felt familiar. She had been so jumbled up in the last week that spending time with someone with whom she shared very few memories, but felt comfortable with was a nice break. And she couldn't ever bring herself to say no to his lonely pleading eyes or charming smile when he asked her to return the next day.

* * *

How in the world Emma had allowed Mary Margaret to convince her to pull out photos of herself as a young child and let her see them, she would never know. It must have been the pleading eyes. She seemed to have that particular look down pat.

As the two women sat on either end of the small couch, sipping their cinnamon dusted cocoa—one of them gushing over pictures, and the other blushing in embarrassment—a kind of peace fell over the apartment.

"Oh Emma. Weren't you just _adorable_. Although your hair was darker then, it's blonde-er now," Mary Margaret grinned at her.

"Really?" Emma responded, leaning forward to take a look for herself, "I'd never noticed."

A quizzical look suddenly befell Mary Margaret's face. "You don't have any pictures from before you were a toddler." She looked at the younger woman in question.

"The family I was with up until then didn't exactly send photos with me when they sent me back." Her eyes grew sad at the memory.

"You were a foster child." Mary Margaret almost whispered. _It makes sense_, she thought.

"Yeah, but really, I'm past it," she said with forced dismissiveness. "Actually there should be one photo of me a couple of days after I was found…" She swiftly cursed herself for letting more information slip, but relaxed when it appeared that Mary hadn't noticed. "Here," she announced, coming to the particular photo.

Mary Margaret's eyebrows raised and furrowed, and her eyes wrinkled in the corners as she held her lips together in an attempt to contain the 'aw' that was threatening to escape. She didn't want to make Emma any more self-conscious than she already was.

"Yeah, yeah, I was cute," Emma sighed and played along. Together they just sat, as one poured over a photo and the other rolled her eyes at the situation she had let herself get into. And yet, the longer it went on, the less she minded it.

"Mary, can I ask you something?" Emma spoke hesitantly, drawing her roommate's eyes toward her voice.

"Sure." Mary Margaret set down the photo and mentally prepared herself. Given the personality and attributes of this girl, the question could be about anything.

"Why did you offer me a room?" Emma asked. "You've been nothing but kind, and considering the type of person I come across as, that's pretty impressive." She laughed slightly.

"I don't know," she pondered for a moment, "It probably sounds crazy but I trust you. Ever since you arrived in town, I've had the oddest feeling like we've met before."

The answer brought contentment to Emma. She couldn't remember the last time, if it had happened anytime at all, that someone had told her that they trusted her. She'd always felt looked down upon, but for once in her life someone held her closer to equal. Obviously, Mary Margaret had some apparent underlying feelings of need to guide her and mother her, but she still respected her as though she were her same age.

"You know," Mary Margaret said, splitting the silence, "I have been wondering…And again I'm sorry if this is too forward or private for you, but have you seen a doctor? Since..?" Her head nodded toward Emma's expanding abdomen.

Emma reddened ever so slightly. There was that mothering thing. "Depends on what you consider a doctor," she answered honestly. "It's not like I've really had the money for it. I went to a free clinic when I first found out just to make sure that everything was okay with me, and that, you know, anything I had done before that point wouldn't hurt him. Or her. But I never quite saved enough for an ultrasound photo before I had to cut town."

Her roommate went to question, but she stopped her. "It's a long story. Some other time." She had officially exhausted herself of revealing information about her past for another ten years. But with the way things were going she had a feeling that the revelations would only increase as time went on. And there wasn't really anything she could do about it.

"You know, I might be able to get Dr. Whale to get you a photo. If you want," Mary offered.

"Oh, um, okay, but…" Emma stammered, faced with a sudden offer.

"And don't worry about the money. I'm a very important volunteer at the hospital, _and_ he owes me a favor. He might even have an opening tomorrow morning, we could go then."

Emma could only smile in response and allow herself to be grateful for the gesture. "Sure. Thank you."

As she went to take another sip of her hot chocolate she could feel that its temperature had dropped considerably during her conversations with Mary Margaret. But it was chocolate nonetheless, and she'd found herself craving it more and more, the farther along she'd gotten in her pregnancy. Suddenly a thought dawned on her and she began to feel uneasy. She realized that she couldn't possibly stay once the baby was born. Bringing a crying newborn into the apartment and into Mary Margaret's life wouldn't be fair.

Just as she was about to bring up the subject, she felt a pointed jabbing in her stomach. She lurched forward at the feeling and then it repeated twice more. She'd never felt the baby kick like this before, she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips.

Mary Margaret had seen the entire moment, from Emma's face being tight, her mind deep in thought, to the surprised that appeared on her face as she felt something move deep within her. "Emma," she began, "Was that.." Her spirits suddenly lifted and she felt happy for the young woman she shared the couch with.

"He's kicking. Or she. Or whoever. But really hard. I've never felt it like this before." Her hand was holding the spot where she experienced it the most often. "There," she said again, staring down at her stomach but focusing internally on the movement.

Mary Margaret couldn't bear it. "Can I…" she hesitated, "Can I feel it?" Her eyes were lit in wonder. From what she could remember she'd never felt for herself, a baby moving from inside the womb.

Without uttering a word or moving her focus, Emma grabbed for Mary Margaret's hand and pulled it to the side of her hard belly. Mary Margaret flushed slightly, but then she felt it, pounding lightly against the palm of her hand. "There! Do you feel that?" Emma finally looked at her grinning.

Mary Margaret's eyes were wide but she stayed intent upon keeping her hand there, waiting for it again. Each time she felt it something plucked a string in her heart and she almost ached. "It's incredible," she spoke, barely audible. She would've have stayed in that moment forever if she had the choice. The warmth shared between the two of them, the beauty of the experience, and the reminder that we all start out the same way.

And entirely unknown to her, the woman sitting with her felt exactly the same way; though neither of them would ever utter it aloud.

**Thanks to 7Seven7 for beta-ing. You all are awesome. Short author's notes make for more accurate word counts. But I'm not exactly complying here am I? Okay I'm done bye. Next chapter up in two days, as is tradition. Okay now I'm really done.**

**Bye.**

**Shoot. I need to say something else, so now my comment is completely blown out of the water. Sorry. To the people who loved Graham, I'm sorry. You won't be seeing much more of him. He lives, he's just not in the story as much. HOWEVER, even thought I have written through to the end, I haven't done the last chapter because I want to take feedback and write it from the inspiration you all give me. I have an idea for something I could do for all of ya'll if you still feel that you want him around once the time for that last chapter comes. (OTP=gremma, so maybe i'll just have to add some hope in there) I'll make a note of it at that time. Now I'm really REALLY done. Thank you all.**


	5. Lover of the Light

**Chapter five woohoo! I can't believe the great response I have gotten for this, really. And I've probably already said that a million times. I'm loving the requests for more Graham and Emma, so I might need to throw in a hint or two for them by the time this story ends. Thanks to 7Seven7 (my bitchin' beta). Enjoy!**

**LOVER OF THE LIGHT**

Emma Swan couldn't remember the last time she had felt nervous about something. She couldn't recall the last time she experienced the tingling of butterflies in her stomach, or the sporadic twitching of her fingers trying to occupy themselves with anything but the reality of an impending situation.

As she sat in the hospital waiting room two days later, her stomach was in knots and her hands were gripping the arms of the chair, her nerves at full capacity. Even the comforting hand resting on her own to her left wasn't enough to bring her to a level of calm. Mary Margaret occasionally glanced over at her, trying her best to smile warmly and show her that this was an exciting thing and nothing to be worried about, but Emma couldn't help it.

Seeing the baby in an ultrasound was when doctors found the primary issues. What if there was something wrong physically; what if she still had scar tissue in her lower abdomen from those memories that she kept at arm's length, and that was causing trouble for the baby's development? There were so many things that could go wrong, or that could have already gone wrong and she had never known. This waiting was definitely not helping.

A nurse appeared in the doorway and called her name. Suddenly she froze. Waiting was better, waiting was _so much_ better.

"Come on," she heard Mary Margaret saying, grabbing her hand and guiding her towards the room. She could feel herself being grateful that Mary Margaret would be there with her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

When she arrived, the nurse directed her to the exam table and she laid on her back obediently, Mary Margaret taking the seat to her left.

"Now," the nurse spoke softly, "You noted on your chart that you're approximately twenty-six weeks along?" Emma nodded. "Okay, well normally we don't perform an over-the-skin ultrasound past twenty-one weeks, but you're so young, and this is your first child I'm assuming, so I would hate to introduce you to the stirrups."

"Thanks," Emma replied gratefully. The nurse proceeded to grab a few supplies, put on some gloves and picked up a large bottle of sonogram jelly. Emma felt Mary's hand slide into her own and give it a reassuring squeeze as the nurse asked her to lift her shirt and then squirted the chilling gel onto her domed belly.

"Alright, here we go," the nurse began as she placed the camera, which looked like a microphone to Emma, onto her stomach. Quickly the room echoed with a thumping sound. "And there's the heartbeat. Nice and strong."

Mary smiled in wonder but Emma just stared at the gray picture flashing on the screen. "Wow, there really is something in there…"

The other two women laughed. "Yes, there is," the nurse said with amusement. She adjusted the wand and then pointed to the different features. "Here is the head, and then the arms and the legs, and there you can even see the fingers."

Suddenly Emma sat up on her elbows and leaned as best she could toward the screen. "It has fingers?" she spoke, her throat tight with the emotion she refuse to let release. She stared in fascination at the little person squirming on the monitor. Of course she had always known that there really was a baby in there, but seeing it live and looking at him or her was surreal.

"Would you like to know the sex?" the nurse asked after giving the young woman a second to soak in the moment.

Emma immediately looked to Mary Margaret, looking for an opinion. The schoolteacher felt her heart swell a little at the fact that her roommate wanted her advice, but she simply continued her beaming smile and said, "It's your choice."

Emma paused for a moment, and then decided. "Yeah, I would."

The nurse again moved the camera, studied the picture for a moment before lifting it from Emma's stomach and announcing, "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Emma could feel herself beaming along with her friend. Not that she wouldn't have if it'd been a girl; there was just something about knowing that the person growing in there had a biological identity. After wiping the remnants of the gel from her stomach and replacing her shirt, she waited by the printer where the nurse was removing a set of three sonogram photos. She handed then to her sweetly and then the pair headed on their way.

When they reached the main lobby the women say their goodbye's and split. Mary Margaret traveled to the inpatient ward to meet up with David, whom she'd promised a walk, and Emma departed toward home.

Upon exiting the glass doors at the front of the hospital she was greeted by a familiar smile, framed by deep maroon lips. "Hello, Emma," Regina greeted her.

"Hi," she replied with a smile.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your walk somewhere." Regina's voiced exuded, even in a mundane moment such as this, an odd air of strength and power, almost demanding a response to any question or implied inquiry.

"Oh, I was just heading home," Emma said with a shrug, and pointing in the direction of the apartment.

"Well I was just heading that way," Regina added with a regal smile. "Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Uh, sure," the younger woman obliged, starting her feet in that direction.

The two women walked in silence for a minute before Regina spoke up. "If you don't mind my asking, how has your position at the Sheriff's station been going for you?" Before Emma could utter an answer, she continued the thought. "If it ever doesn't work out, we are always looking for secretaries down at the town hall."

Emma was surprised at the mayor's forward offer. And as much as she appreciated the gesture, she could never picture herself as a secretary. At least with Graham she got to tag along on some of his sheriff duties. "Thank you," she answered graciously, "But I like my job for now." She added a smile for assurance and then turned her face back to facing ahead.

"Of course," Regina responded, "I understand." As a swift breeze caught her, she shoved her hands into her pockets, but kept her gaze on the young woman, trying to drink in the similarities between her and her mother than she hadn't noticed before. The eyes, the soft jaw-line, the long curls, even her personality reminded her of that rotten girl. But instead of letting her clenching teeth show, she forced another smile and asked, "Did you enjoy the pie?"

"Oh, yeah I did. Thank you," Emma lied. Honestly, she hadn't touched it. Apples always put her off, and when she'd offered it to Mary Margaret, the woman had denied it politely stating that she had distaste for them as well.

Looking up, she realized that she was almost home. Turning to Regina, she informed her, "This is actually my stop, I'm sorry for the short conversation. But thank you for the company," she added.

"No problem, see you again Miss Swan." Emma returned the wave given to her and turned to walk up the stairs. For the next two hours, Emma spent her time in her room trying to occupy herself until lunchtime. She attempted to read a book but couldn't find a comfortable position. She tidied the room and made the bed, and eventually gave up and lay on her back in the center of the bed and stared at the ceiling. She softly massaged the place where her son laid swirling around and plodding small kicks on her organs. Quietly she shushed him and continued rubbing circles until she felt his movement subside.

"You know, you're gonna be a pretty good looking kid. And smart, and probably incredibly stubborn. And if you're anything like me, you're gonna have trouble getting close to people. But as long as we have each other we'll be okay." Slowly she closed her eyes and let herself be consumed by a daydream, until she was startled minutes later when the front door closed loudly and she heard footsteps shuffle into the kitchen.

Swaying down the stairs, she found an incredibly focused Mary Margaret scrubbing away at the kitchen counter. Her face was scrunched in concentration, both at the apparent spot that needed cleaning and at whatever thought was bridling her mind. Emma made her way to the stools at the opposite edge and took a seat, hissing as she smacked her knee clumsily on the underside of the overhang. Mary noticed none of this.

"Hey," Emma spoke slowly, trying not to startle her roommate. Mary Margaret's eyes flashed up at her, acknowledged her presence, and then returned to the vigorous task at hand. "Are you…. Okay?" She continued, trying not to find humor in the change in normal behavior.

"I'm fine." She spoke quickly and dismissively, trying to convince the both of them of that fact.

"Alright, you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine. But I'm going to make us some lunch." Emma intended to get some sort of smile out the woman, and she knew just how to do it.

Mary Margaret stopped scrubbing and returned her gaze to the blonde, an eyebrow raised at the last statement. "You? Make lunch?" She snickered, momentarily training her thoughts elsewhere.

"Or…. I could talk to you and keep you company while _you_ make it." Emma focused her eyes and pursed her lips slightly, pointedly drawing the humor out of the moment. Mary Margaret sighed, agreeing, and set the cloth aside.

"What shall we have?" she asked. A distraction would be good. Anything to keep her mind off of the one thing that swarmed it constantly; John Doe.

**Shorter chapter, but the stop point is necessary for the next chapter. Please review, I like to know what you think and if I should make changes to the plot as per things that people want to see :) I love you all.**


	6. Sister

**I can't even comprehend the explosion of reviews after that last chapter. Thank you all, as always. This story has gotten over 2300 views in 6 chapters, I can't even... So here I'll just give you another chapter.**

**SISTER**

Mary Margaret sat on the living room couch, one Friday evening—feeling slightly ridiculous in her matching pajamas—waiting for Emma to come home. On a normal night, if she were home first, she _would_ wait for Emma, but more as a passing thought while she graded student's homework, or prepared dinner. This night, it that was not the case.

After a conversation with Emma in which she mentioned that she was the first new person to arrive in Storybrooke in years, the blonde challenged her observation. The two butted heads for a couple of minutes before Emma came up with a creative, and a little childish, solution; a bet. Emma declared that she believed that new people arrived all of the time and that Mary Margaret just didn't notice. If she was in fact wrong, she promised that she would do anything that Mary wished. That was her first mistake.

The following day Emma had set out to track down anyone with knowledge of new townspeople. Graham had never encountered any, Granny's had no reservations or rooms paid for, and the man who collected rent for most of the apartments in the area, Mr. Gold, hadn't rented to a new tenant in years. After three days of searching she came up short. Baffled, she returned the information to Mary Margaret, defeated. "Alright," she'd huffed, "What is my price for losing?"

Her friend had looked her in the eye, and with a mischievous grin, announced, "You are going to have a sleepover with me. A good old fashioned, stay up all night watching movies and talking, painting nails, and eating junk food, _sleepover_."

And so here she sat, waiting for Emma's arrival. It had been a long couple of weeks for the both of them. Emma seemed to have found her niche with Graham, and would come home chattering about the different duties that he was slowly letting her take on. But with the new duties, came more travelling on foot, and in the last month and a half, her stomach had enlarged an incredible amount, and she often complained about her swollen feet.

She shuffled through the door finally, her face scrunched, and her arms full. She slowly carried everything upstairs and appeared minutes later in a loose t-shirt and sweats. With a puff of air she collapsed onto the couch next to her roommate and leaned her head back with a sigh.

"How was your day?" Mary Margaret asked sweetly, wondering if Emma had forgotten their plans.

"So. Much. Walking," she groaned.

"Well, here, put your feet on my lap," the brunette offered. Emma looked at her curiously. "Really, I don't mind," she assured her.

With a thankful shrug Emma swung her feet up onto the couch, occupying the space between the two women. Silence fell in the room and each woman dissolved into their own thoughts, not minding the quiet after a long day.

Automatically Mary Margaret's mind went to John Doe as her fingers kneaded softly. He was finally being released from the hospital in a day. The staff had been kind enough to come up with more "reasons" for him to stay so he could find time to get some work and an apartment, but they had finally come up with nothing. He had finished physical therapy, and aside from psychological examinations, he was out of ailments. She worried for him though, still not knowing his past, but through all the times she had visited, he had been so pleased at making new memories with her.

But she was feeling things, it had started weeks ago, and she was having trouble setting them aside. Every time he smiled she felt the world move slower, his laugh constantly rung in her ears, and when she closed her eyes at night, his were there waiting for her. They would talk for hours sometimes about anything and everything and it was almost as though his existence and the formulation of who he was depended solely on her own existence in his life.

Aside from that relationship, she now had Emma. A young, not-so-helpless girl who Mary Margaret couldn't decide her feelings on. She knew she was drawn to her and felt a variation of "love" and care towards her, but she was still muddled on whether the feelings were maternal because of the age gap, or feelings derived from the close friendship that had gown between them. Looking to her right, she saw that Emma had dozed off, so she grabbed a book and sat contentedly reading it until she woke an hour later.

Emma sat up with a start, and looked around, still lost in the haze of an interrupted dream. "Oh my god, did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry Mary Margaret."

"It's no problem, you needed your rest. But we should start dinner once you wake up all of the way." She couldn't help but smile at how young Emma looked when she was half awake. If you took away the bulging pregnant belly, you might think that she was just a child rubbing her eyes and yawning. She was just a child in reality, but from what it seemed, her life hadn't been easy; she'd had to mature quickly and far beyond her years.

Mary Margaret went into the kitchen and procured a cold pizza from the fridge. Emma's eyes automatically lit up and she couldn't stop the "mmm" that escaped her lips.

"You did not…" she exuded, trying to contain her happiness.

"Of course I did," Mary Margaret replied, "What sleepover doesn't have cold pizza?" She felt accomplished for having made Emma smile.

As quickly as her stomach would allow, Emma raced off the couch and made it to the table, grabbing two slices before returning to the couch and taking a bite. "Mmmm. Oh my god, I love you. Thank you…"

The use of those three words didn't even register with Emma, but Mary Margaret froze. For a minute she thought she might leap across the room and swarm her roommate in a hug, but instead she remained stationary, willing her emotions to settle as she stared at the young woman who had since made it to her second piece of pizza. The same young woman who had likely said that phrase to very few people in her lifetime.

After the moment passed, and the two had finished their first meal of the night, they raided the fridge and laid out, upon the coffee table in the living room, an assortment of fatty and sugary foods. Perfect for a pregnant teenager with raging cravings, and a schoolteacher who was so thin that she had nothing to lose. And on into the wee hours of the morning they watched a round of "Risky Business," a terrifying "Cujo," and just for fun, "Jaws 3-D."

By half past three, they agreed that neither of them could make it the entire night, and they set off for bed, leaving the mess for the morning. Upon reaching the stairs, a half-awake Emma struggled to make it up the first two steps. Between the size and weight of her stomach, and her inability to keep her eyes open for more than a minute, she was defeated. She schlepped back to the couch and plopped down, determined to sleep there for the night.

Mary Margaret came to her side, wiggled an arm under her back and helped her sit up. She kept her arm around her waist, put Emma's arm over her own shoulder and began walking her towards the curtain separating her own room from the rest of the apartment.

"Where are we going," Emma mumbled incoherently.

"There is no way I am letting you sleep on the couch," Mary Margaret stated, "It would do horrible things for your back, and I can't imagine that it would be good for the baby either."

She guided Emma over the step up, and brought her to the left side of the bed. She pulled back the blankets, laid her down, and covered her back up. By the time she made it to her side, Emma was completely asleep. She arranged herself comfortably under the sheets, turned on her side and studied the face of her bed-mate.

"Thanks for the best birthday ever," she whispered, switching off the light and shutting her eyes. And it had been.

* * *

Mary Margaret woke the next morning to the sound of cursing and the smell of burning bacon. She jumped from her bed and rushed into the kitchen, only to stop and burst into a fit of giggles.

Emma was standing over the stove, her hair half out of a ponytail and frizzing in all directions, and her face wearing a look of anger and exasperation, obviously trying to make breakfast. She made a quick attempting to flip the black covered bacon strips, and missed the pan, unleashing another flurry of cursing.

"Damn it! Shit, mother—"

"Emma," Mary Margaret called out over the bustling. Emma jumped at the sound of another voice and then looked like she was going to burst into tears of frustration. "What _are_ you doing?" she continued, holding in her, now, concern.

Emma's face scrunched and then her mouth opened and out spilled a flood of words. "Well, I heard you last night and I wanted to make food. You said it was your birthday, and I wasn't all the way asleep yet. And I felt bad that you didn't tell me it was your birthday. And you're always cooking for me, and I just wanted to do something nice back, and then the bacon got burnt, and the toast is cold now, and the eggs are runny and… I'm really sorry." And finally the tears broke the surface. "I don't why I'm crying, it's like I have all of these emotions this week and I hate it! What's wrong with me?"

Mary Margaret walked calmly to where Emma stood, turned off the stove and set the pan in the sink, removed the spatula from Emma's tight grip and turned her until she was looking directly at her. She placed her hands on the girl's arms and smiled. "Thank you."

"But…" Emma squeaked out.

"_Thank you_." She said it again, emphasizing her gratitude. "And I would say that you're probably feeling the brunt of a new batch of hormones."

Emma raised her eyesbrows.

"The crying," Mary whispered with a smirk.

"Oh. Right." Emma wiped her face and let out a small chuckle.

"Why don't I _show_ you how to make the eggs again, and we can just re-toast the bread a little more?" she offered, moving across the kitchen to grab a crate of eggs. Throughout the rest of the baking lesson, Mary Margaret could help but smile from ear to ear. She had always dreamed of the day when she'd be able to teach her own daughter to cook, and even though she knew that Emma was just a friend, somehow she felt like that dream had been fulfilled.

**Note: I chose the movies I did because they were released in 1983, the year that our beloved fairytale characters landed in Storybrooke. I doubt they would have anything current. And by current I mean 2001, when this is set. THANK YOU TO 7SEVEN7. See you in two days my lovely readers, reviews are always appreciated.**


	7. Whispers in the Dark

**Time for a little Mary Margaret and John Doe, no?**

**WHISPERS IN THE DARK**

After breakfast Mary Margaret gathered her things and headed to the hospital. Because it was John Doe's last day, she had promised to visit for the day and "make some final memories," as he put it. As she sat across from him at the small table in the physical therapy gym, she couldn't help but get lost in thought as he spoke. Not that what he was saying wasn't interesting, she just found that he was a very thought-provoking person. In the background of her daydream she could hear him.

They had been discussing "life," of all things. He had this great passion for understanding why people ended up where they did, and whether or not there was such a thing as destiny, or free choice; or if everything was already set out before one was even born. When, after half an hour, the conversation shifted to what they each wanted from life she could feel herself blushing slightly when he talked about wanting to meet the right person some day, and have a house full of children. All that he had said was absorbed into her mind until one phrase startled her out of her subconscious.

"Sorry?" she asked, checking that she had heard him right.

"True love," he repeated, "Do you believe in true love? That there is someone out there who we are destined to be with?"

"Oh," she stuttered, "I don't know. I mean I would like to think so, but it's hard to imagine that something from fairytales really exists, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but if true love exists, I want it," he stated matter-of-factly, his eyes lingering on hers a bit longer than necessary.

"But how do you know? What you want? I mean, that must signify that whoever you were before now is still inside you somewhere," Mary Margaret offered. His eyes fell slightly and the smile on his face faded. He sank into thought, and she could tell that she probably had chosen the wrong thing to say. She reached out her hand and set it on his own, curling her grasp and letting the warmth radiate from her to him. "You _will_ remember, I believe that more than anything," she stated seriously before smiling, trying to lift his spirit.

Somehow the gesture struck a chord and from that point on, his face remained alight for the rest of the day. After a few hours of games, chit chat and a cafeteria lunch, Mary Margaret found herself growing weary and finally told him that she would be leaving. "I'm sorry I can't stay until you're checked out. I was just up late last night and I think it's finally catching up to me."

"Of course, I understand," he replied. "It might be another hour; they're really busy with patients today. Oh, Mary Margaret," he said quickly, seeing that she was moving to leave, "I know this might be forward, but, would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? I saw this nice spot near the lake when I was out walking the other day. We could have a picnic?"

Mary Margaret could feel every fiber of her being screaming at her to say no. "Sure," she answered. "Meet you at Granny's at noon?"

"Yeah," he beamed back at her. "See you then."

She gave him one last smile before walking out of the room. Somehow her brain wasn't very good at telling her mouth what to speak. She had wanted more than anything to say yes, but everything told her no. And yet, her answer was what she had felt, somewhere deep within her chest. He was her compulsive disease in a way. Somehow he had gotten under her skin, and now she was stuck with him; and all of the feelings that came along with it.

* * *

Late the next morning Mary Margaret emerged from her bedroom, to find Emma curled up on the couch with a small white blanket and an open file. She realized that it was probably something private that the young woman did not wish to discuss, but Mary was feeling daring that morning for some reason. Maybe it was the way she was dressed. She couldn't remember the last time that she had taken almost an entire morning to get ready to go somewhere. Much less, for a date.

"What's that?" she spoke finally, nodding toward the file. The minute Emma had heard the voice and turned to her roommate, she'd shut the folder quickly, and held it down onto her lap.

"Nothing, just some old files," she lied. She doubted that Mary Margaret would believe her, but she still hoped that she would catch the hint that elaborating on their contents was not going to happen.

"Oh," she responded, playing along, "Where'd you get them?" She waltzed into the kitchen and began making herself a small piece of toast to tide her over. She was supposed to meet him in a little over an hour.

"From work, Graham let me take them home," Emma responded. The tone of her voice would have been convincing enough to anyone else, but her roommate knew her too well already.

"Oh, of course," Mary Margaret conceded, trying to keep a steady beat to her voice. She could feel herself growing slightly perturbed at the fact that Emma was pressing forward with the lie. "But explain one thing to me," she spoke again, knowing the next question was not a good idea, "How come those _exact_ files were sitting in your car when I first walked by that one night. I can't imagine he gave them to you that early on, now can I?" Her speech was becoming more mocking and sarcastic. She already regretted pressing the issue, but there was no stopping this drive she had to chastise the younger woman for lying.

Emma felt her neck tightening at the fact that her roommate was challenging her. She was trapped and she knew it.

"Look," Mary breathed, calming herself, "I understand if you don't want to talk about your parents…." Emma flinched, surprised that her friend knew the purpose of the file. But the more she thought about it the more she realized how perceptive Mary Margaret was, and how she might not have missed all of Emma's slip ups that clued her into what her childhood had been like.

"No," she sighed, "I mean there really isn't a lot to talk about. I don't know anything about them. But I'll find them someday." She stopped talking at that spot. She didn't want to continue and risk an emotional rant on how much she hated them for leaving her to the life she had. Emma let out a long breath and then looked at Mary Margaret who nodded in understanding and dropped the subject.

The brunette looked away and returned to flitting around the kitchen, gathering butter, a plate, and a few other amenities, but Emma kept her eyes on her, studying her movement. Something was different… and then she realized it. She let out a snort, accidentally catching Mary Margaret's attention, before asking, "And _where_ are you going?"

She suddenly grew very pink and sheepish. "Nowhere," she replied, her eyes dancing slightly.

"Oh, right," Emma nodded in mockery. "Well I hope you have fun going _nowhere_."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and took a bite of her freshly buttered toast. Sometimes Emma could be such a sass.

* * *

The picnic that John Doe, _gosh she hated having to call him that_, had lain out was lovely. The location was pristine and the grin on his face when he showed it to her had been the icing on the cake. Some pasta salad, fresh bread, home-baked cookies, and a bottle of wine sat at one corner and the two of them sat occupying the rest of the stereotypical checkerboard mat. For a minute they just sat and smiled at each other, but he was eager to begin a conversation so he cleared his throat and started,

"So, I've decided that I need a name, and I was hoping that you might help me pick." He stared into her eyes intently, waiting for a suggestion.

"Me?" She sat back, slightly baffled. "But it's your own name, you have to have an opinion."

"I do, but I still want to know what you think," he responded softly, still wearing is ridiculous grin.

Mary Margaret sighed, thinking. "Well, I'm not sure if I've heard it somewhere before or what, but I've always liked the name James."

He liked the way the name slipped past her lips. "I like it," he announced. "James, it is."

"Well what about a last name?" she asked.

"I was just going to take yours…" he drawled playfully, hiking up the corner of his mouth into a half smile.

Mary Margaret let out a small laugh and playfully shoved him, to which he responded by falling back dramatically and pretending that he'd hurt his back. "Ah ow!" he cried out sharply.

Mary suddenly grew worried and crawled forward, putting her arm out to offer her hand. "Oh I am so sorry! I only meant to pla…hey!" He grasped her wrist and pulled her forward to him, her heart racing as she landed on his chest. Flustered, she climbed off and back to her spot, trying to hid the nervous grin stretching on her face; him laughing throughout.

Once he was back in a sitting position, she poured them each a glass of wine and, still blushing, raised one to the air saying, "To life, and to fresh starts, _James_."

"To me," he chortled. After each taking a drink, they dove into the food, devouring most of it within minutes, and falling into small chit chat.

Over the next ten minutes, she could feel him move closer to her on the mat, with each scratch of the chin when laughing, or each adjustment of his sitting position when it grew too uncomfortable, until she felt his knee grazing hers and his hand a centimeter away, their finger tips exchanging heat through the small space of air between them. Suddenly there was lull in the conversation and he smiled.

The space between them slowly lessened until she could feel their noses brush. She could smell the sweet wine on his breath and she longed for nothing more than to close the gap between them. His lips began to brush hers but she panicked, pulling back.

"I..can—" but she couldn't finish her sentence before her heart took over and she had closed the distance on her own. It was wrong, it was all wrong, she knew it. But the feeling of him with her, moving with her, she couldn't reach her thoughts through it. She knew… She knew… She… "No." She broke the kiss and the cool air shocked her lips as she drew back.

"I'm sorry, James. But you could have a life somewhere." He looked back at her is eyes glassy.

"I don't care," he assured her. "Whatever my life was before, it doesn't matter. All that matters are these feelings I have for _you_."

His words drilled into her and rooted themselves there. He was slowly breaking her down again.

He huffed loudly, realizing that the moment had passed and the chance of her giving in was low. "Okay, maybe we just need time to think and to breathe. Meet me back here tomorrow night and then we'll see how we feel. If you don't show, I'll have my answer. Fair?"

She sighed, she knew more time would only weaken her resolve, but she felt that there wasn't much of a choice. "Fair."

* * *

Walking back to the lake that night, she regretted every step. It was frightening how strong her feelings for him were. She hadn't even known him that long. He hadn't even known _himself_ for that long.

She made it to the spot and waited. It was cold, it was dark, but she waited. She had fallen for him and she already knew it. There was no turning back.

A crunching sound came down the pathway and there he stood, emerging from the shadows, a telling expression on his face.

**So has Katherine finally mysteriously emerged as a part of Regina's plan? If so what will his choice be? Or will it be something else entirely? Thoughts/theories? Reviews? ;)**

**Thank you 7Seven7. Every chapter, without fail. You are practically my muse.**


	8. Winter Winds

**WINTER WINDS**

Emma woke to the shutting of the door downstairs. The audible attempt at cushioning the noise made it obvious that whomever it was, didn't want anyone to know that they had arrived home in the morning. Emma glanced at her clock and groaned upon seeing that it was still before eight. This day was apparently a town holiday so she had the day off, as did most of Storybrooke, and had planned on sleeping in. But her curiosity got the best of her and she pounded down the stairs and into the living room.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary Margaret's figure fluttering around the back of the kitchen. Her hair was ruffled, she was in the same outfit that she had departed in the night before, and she had _that look_. Emma took a quick breath and laughed. "You did _not_…." she spoke dramatically, as she entered the room.

Mary Margaret immediately turned flush pink. "What?" she asked trying her very best to sound innocent and unaware.

"Oh come on. I'd know that look anywhere," Emma informed her, "But the more important question is _who_? Please tell me it was at least the same person that you snuck off to meet last night."

Her eyes turned away and she wandered over to the front door to pick up the purse that she had dropped there. "Mary, who was… No..!" Emma gasped with a chuckle. "You dirty—"

"Stop it Emma. It was nothing. Just a moment of weakness." Mary Margaret was returning to her normal pale color but her face still read of a million emotions and thoughts.

"Yeah,_ I'll bet_." Emma knew she was having far too much fun teasing her friend. But it was oh so tempting. "So how was it?"

That question threw Mary Margaret over the edge and she was red once more. "I am so not talking about this! Especially with a teenager!" She flew toward the couch and sat playing with her ring nervously.

"I'm just teasing Mary Margaret, really. But in case you haven't noticed," Emma paused, placing both hands on her enormous stomach, "I'm pretty sure I know all about 'this'." She couldn't resist the urge to add the air-quotes for childish emphasis.

Slowly the dust settled, and the emotions seemed to return to a level field. Emma turned slowly toward Mary Margaret and waited until she felt her gaze. When she finally met her eyes, she spoke slowly. "Can I ask _one_ more question? I'm just confused about something…"

Mary Margaret sighed. "Yes."

"So, was it John Doe or not? That was a little unclear," she asked hesitantly.

The brunette nodded in reply. "Yes. He goes by James...I don't really know where we stand now though. Everything just moved _really_ fast, but it felt like it was just supposed to be that way…" She spoke as though she were relaying her deepest thoughts. It _had_ felt so right, despite the overwhelming speed at which their relationship had advanced. He had arrived, she had seen him, his face alight with happiness, but after that point it was all a blur of lips locking, a quaint hotel room, flying apparel, and that _feeling_. That feeling that was as if he was making her feel as though she had never felt anything before.

"Well," Emma formulated a reply, "I might be young, and me offering you advice is probably odd, but the last relationship I was in felt and went exactly like that and look where I ended up. Just be careful." She offered a reassuring and supportive smile, and gave her roommate's shoulder a squeeze. "So, since that's done, I'm gonna go back to bed. It's my day off and I should not be up right now. See you in a couple hours." Emma hoisted herself off the couch and meandered up the metal staircase to her room.

Upon emerging two hours later, she found Mary Margaret sitting deep in thought, in the same spot she had left her in. She waddled her way to the kitchen, put in two pieces of toast, just how her roommate had taught her to, and returned to the couch. Suddenly the schoolteacher turned to her and announced,

"We should go shopping. I need a distraction, and you need baby furniture."

Emma was taken aback, by both her sudden change in behavior and her suggestion to shop for baby-related items. "I, uh," she sighed, "I have been meaning to talk to you about this, it's just been crazy lately…_I didn't think I was going to stay_. I was going to move once the baby was born, or even a little before." Her eyes grew sad upon finally voicing her thoughts aloud. "I couldn't bring a crying baby into this apartment. He'd keep you up at night, and it's not like you'd want to get up for feedings and diaper changes, and stuff. So I was just going to try to find someplace else to live."

"What?" Mary Margaret cried out softly, her eyes full of hurt that the worry the young girl had apparently had this on her mind for some time. "No, you are always welcome to stay. I _want_ you to stay."

Emma's expression softened, but she was still wary. She never wanted Mary Margaret to let her stay out of obligation or pity. Her roommate huffed, trying to think of a way to convince her.

"Stay here," she commanded lightly, holding up a polite hand. For a minute she entered her room, shuffled around for something under her bed and then returned holding a slender cardboard box. She brought it back to the couch and patted the spot next to her. Emma went to her obediently, and the brunette placed the box on her lap, waiting patiently. Emma looked at her questioningly.

"Open it. I was planning on waiting until after the baby was born, or until I at least found the time to put together a small baby shower, but I suppose you should have it now." She continued staring intently into Emma's eyes.

Still feeling caught off guard, Emma lifted the loose flap, and brushed the tissue paper aside.

"I've had this in my classroom for years, and no one has ever used it…" the teacher explained. It was truly a beautiful book. Hand-bound, stitching on the edge of the cover, and beautiful detailing in the title. _Once Upon a Time_. "I thought we, or you," she corrected herself, "Could read him bedtime stories from it."

Emma smiled brightly at the gift, and looked back at Mary Margaret, "Thank you. And I'm sorry for doubting that you'd want me to stay. I've never really been accepted before. So this is all kinda new for me."

"Of course," she replied, "But never forget that wherever you are or however far into the future it is, you always have a home here." Mary Margaret gently placed her hand on Emma's in reassurance. "Now. How about shopping huh? I think we could both use something to do…"

Emma was hesitant. Buying furniture made it all the more real. She sometimes felt like she wouldn't completely accept the fact that she was going to be a mother until she actually held him in her arms.

"You know you want to look at all the cute little clothes…" Mary Margaret's eyes were pleading.

"Alright fine, let's go," Emma conceded. The two women headed off to change and then they were out the door.

* * *

Almost two hours later, they had stuffed the back of Mary Margaret's car with boxes and bags, and yet something felt like it was missing. After offloading most of the large items, and almost destroying the living room in the process, they slumped onto the couch to catch a breath. Emma rubbed her belly soothingly, trying to calm down her son who was moving fervently in response to her increased heartbeat.

"Okay," Mary Margaret breathed, followed by a cleansing inhale. "If you want to be done, we can be done. But there's one place that we didn't go to. To be honest, the owner creeps me out a little, but he has lots of small trinkets, so you never know what you might find."

Emma, still on a high from exploring all of the different baby-related sections of the stores, agreed to go; but only after taking a few more minutes to rest. Sitting back, she shut her eyes and rubbed the wide circles, tracing the rhythm with her palms.

Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop was a dark and cramped room, lined with glass cases, and strewn with miscellaneous items, no two that were alike. The two women entered quietly, soaking in the overwhelming mass of items, some attached to the walls and some hanging from the ceiling. They each walked to a different case and peered inside, and just as they bent down, Mr. Gold appeared in the doorway to his workshop.

"How may I help you ladies?" he greeted them, his tongue lingering on the last "s."

"We're just loo—" they spoke simultaneously, surprising each other and then laughing at themselves.

"We're just looking," Emma echoed. "Not really for anything in particular."

Mary Margaret stood and moved to a different area of the shop, feeling uncomfortable with her proximity to Gold, and started studying the hanging objects in one corner. Suddenly she saw it, twinkling in the light of an open window. She was instantly mesmerized. She didn't know what made her feel connected to it but the glass mobile grasped her heart. She reached out gently, and tapped one of the crystal horses.

"See something you like?" Gold called out from his perch. Emma looked to where her roommate had her eyes glued on the mobile.

"It's beautiful.." she whispered. "Oh please let me get this for you Emma," she said turning to the blonde. "You insisted on paying for everything else yourself, just let me buy this."

Emma walked to where it hung, dancing from the shift in the air. She quickly found herself lost in its glimmering. "How about we split it," she offered. They both agreed and went up to the counter to purchase it.

"It's such an exquisite piece, don't you think?" Mr. Gold remarked, his eyes flashing between them. They both just smiled, and left quickly after purchasing it, feeling the uncomfortable air of his shop seeping into and clogging their lungs.

Soon they arrived home, not daring to attempt to carry the items up the stairs to Emma's room, they sat down for some hot chocolate. Breathing in the deep scent they stayed at the table, talking and laughing after a long day. At most points, Mary Margaret would assume a large portion of the talking and Emma would just listen happily to her roommate's chatter about how great it would be to have a baby in the house, her face lighting up when she spoke about it.

Through these last two months Emma had realized something. Despite all that she had been through, and all she likely would go through, just for this period of time, life was good. For the first time in a long time she felt safe, cared for and like the world had finally given up on trying to beat her down.

But the world was full of irony, so the next night when her phone rang, trilling its warning out into the night air, she felt the foreboding that told her that the goodness had just been sucked away into the darkness outside.

**And now it begins. These are some of my favorite, and yet least favorite, chapters for what I am about to put these characters through. But I hope you enjoy them. 7Seven7 is a bitchin' beta, always ;) Reviews are appreciated.**


	9. To Darkness

**TO DARKNESS**

"Emma." The voice crackled on the other end of the line, its raspy-ness ringing recognition in her ears. She knew that sound anywhere, even if she hadn't heard it in almost a year.

"Trish, why are you calling me?" she demanded. "How did you even get my number?" Emma could feel her blood pressure rising and her fingers pulsed in agitation.

"Emma it's bad. They're looking for you. I don't know how he did it Em, but he did. He made them think it, or he changed the records, I don't know, but he's out of jail, and they want to put you in." Her old friend's voice jittered between sentences. "I know it wasn't you, we all do, but the cops think they have evidence. I don't know where the hell you are, but they've been tracking you. No matter where you run they're going to catch you. I…I gotta go…"

Emma screamed into the phone, "Wait Trish! Wait, what do I—" But the line clicked and she was gone. Emma was sweating, she had feared this more than anything. It was why she'd run. She should have never gone with him that night, but after what she'd seen she'd never turned back. She felt so stupid for not getting an alibi for that night. There were probably security cameras that saw her running from his car as she waited outside. She had just been fired, the cops would know that, they'd think that she was desperate for money. Maybe he had agreed to give information if they let him out early. And now she would go to jail.

All of these realizations flooded her and she felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't see clearly but she had to get out of the apartment before Mary Margaret got home. She stumbled out onto the street and headed for the first person she could think of. The mayor.

She didn't even take her car. She walked the entire way to the town hall, hoping that the tall dark-haired woman would still be there. The cold wind stung her face, pale with a steely resolve to not panic. She shut down her thoughts and just walked, focusing on nothing but black space. She had to fix this.

"Regina," she called out, walking into the area with the offices.

"Yes?" a reply came from a door to her right. She entered slowly, standing in the shadowed room, cowering within her coat.

"Regina, I'm sorry for bothering you, I just," the words were catching in her throat, "I need help. I didn't know who else to go to. I thought you… you might know someone, the legal type I guess, who could help me." Her hollowing eyes looking pleadingly at the mayor.

"Would you prefer that I not ask why you need it?" Regina replied evenly.

Emma nodded. The mayor walked to her side and placed an arm around her shoulders in comfort. On the inside she screamed at having to touch this girl. She wanted nothing more than to snatch the letter opener from her desk and slit her throat where she stood. But that would just cause a mess. And break her curse.

"Very well," she obliged, trying her very best to sound caring. "I can help you, but there is only one person that we can go to in this town, and I must warn you, he's not very well liked." Emma's eyes flashed with an image of the man. She knew who it was.

"Mr. Gold…"

* * *

"_It's done Mr. Gold sir. Just as you asked.." the crackling voice itched to ask a question. "Can, can I get that payment now?" Her hands were twitching. She had been out for a couple of days now, and she could feel her body contracting at the need. _

"_Yes, yes, I will transfer the money tonight." And with that the line dropped dead._

**How is Emma going to get out of this one? And what will Gold propose, he always has an agenda. Let me know your thoughts. (I heart 7Seven7)**_  
_

**Also, if I get enough feedback that you guys want me to, I might post the next chapter TOMORROW, to save you too much suspense. Or should I save that for after the next chapter? Hmmm.**


	10. Devil's Spoke

**So I guess some of you were confused in the last chapter. The person on the phone with Gold at the end _was_ Trish. Does that maybe connect the dots a little more?**

**Also, I kinda did the math wrong so I'll be off by like four days once I finish posting. So what I am going to do is post the next/final five chapters as follows: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Monday, Wednesday. And then I will write an extra Emma/MM one-shot for the 28th, just so I'll lead up to the premiere, cause that's how much I love you. Or maybe...another chapter somewhere in between...hmm. Okay sorry, I'll just go think, you go read. Always a thank you to 7Seven7. And, go.**

**DEVIL'S SPOKE**

From his back room Gold could hear the creaking of his shop door, signifying that they had arrived. He writhed slightly with pleasure at the success of his plan and then entered the outer room with a sneer.

"I've been expecting you… You see, I too got a call this evening. But it was services that they required, not my handcuffed wrists." His eyes flashed as he hissed the final word, his personality playing more true. "They'll be here within a day I'm afraid, such bad luck for this town to have a _convict_ in its midst."

"But I didn't do it!" Emma cried, lunging toward the counter and leaning on it. "It's a set up, I was there, but I left!" Her tone suddenly dropped. "Please," she begged, "You have to help me. I need a lawyer or something to prove to them that it wasn't me, before they can arrest me."

"Oh but you see, that's impossible. They _are_ going to arrest you, and I doubt you'll be able to pay the bail… I might suggest saying your good-byes while you have the chance. There isn't much I can do for you until there's a trial." He spoke honestly, but chose his words carefully, as he directed her strings like a puppet. She was slowly playing right into his hands.

"But how long until a trial? I can't just sit in jail for months! I have a job, and Mary Maragaret and—" She gasped loudly, her hand flying to her stomach and her whole being tightening in despair. "No. No, what'll happen to the baby?!" Fear rippled through her as a million scenarios whipped across her mind.

"The child will be birthed in the jail's hospital and then be put in the foster system, and be placed with a caring family I'm sure…" He knew just what to say. "I wouldn't worry Miss Swan, at least your child would have a family to watch over him."

"No!" She cried. "I can't let that happen. There has to be a way for me to get out of this. I won't let my son be taken from me."

"I'm sorry, but there is no other way to go. The child _will_ be taken from you. Unless of course you procured a quick adoption…" Emma immediately caught the hinting in his voice.

"Not you. I won't. He needs a mother."

Gold chuckled, "Oh no not myself, but maybe there is someone else. What about you Regina?"

Emma looked at the mayor whom had remained quiet for the entire exchange. "Only if it was what you wanted Emma. So that way if you made it out someday you could still see him." She paused. "I have always wanted a child to care for, but never found the right one. But I have the money to support one, and the time to care. But it's your decision." Regina recited her speech smoothly, emphasizing in every appropriate place and softening her voice as she went.

Emma was immediately overwhelmed and felt trapped by such a drastic decision. She couldn't think clearly again and she was stuttering. "I, I can't. He's my son. I can't just give him away. And adoptions take months!" She held her stomach and her eyes swarmed with tears.

"Miss Swan," Mr. Gold spoke softly, "Listen to me. I know you think that there is another way out, but I can promise you there isn't. You will have this child in jail. It is just up to you what happens to him whilst you remain there. Either you lose him to anonymous people, or to someone who will remain here for you to find him again someday. _He'll always be yours,_" he offered. "And don't tell me you haven't had your doubts. Could you really raise a child, even given different circumstances? He needs a stable home, with love and support. Children are expensive, and no amount of love can make up for an empty belly when they fall asleep at night."

It was almost as though he knew her entire life story. Each sentence ripped her heart more. Tears poured from her eyes and she knew. She knew she had no other choice. She couldn't leave her son to the dogs. In her mind she could picture him running across a lawn, his blonde hair blowing in the wind, a beaming smile on his face. He would see a butterfly fluttering off a flower in the garden, and chase it, squealing as he toddled along. But then he would turn to her and with an exclamation of "Mommy!" he would run to her and swing his chubby arms around her neck. She would hold him there for eternity if she had the choice. But no matter how this ended up, she would never see that.

The longer she argued with herself, the less time she would have with him before he was taken away.

Mr. Gold reached into his filing cabinet and pulled out a stack of some papers. "It just so happens that I double as a lawyer, and I can have him signed over to Mayor Mills at any moment. You won't have to worry about your boy, he'll be protected, and loved, and safe."

Emma was done thinking. There was only one way for this to end. She moved toward the counter and the world transitioned to slow motion. She couldn't see through the tears that streaked her face. She signed where instructed and when she was finished, Regina moved to hug her for comfort, but she cowered away. She ran, as fast as her body would allow, out of the shop and into the frosted air. She cried out as she was released to where she could breathe and she thought she might collapse right there in the street. Her chest screamed in pain and she felt like her heart had been ripped from it. She staggered for minutes before reaching the door to her apartment. This was where it all would end. By morning her life would be over. She steeled her resolve, wiping her tears, and walked through the door.

"Oh, Emma you're home." Mary Maragret turned to her with a welcoming smile, but faster than light it fell, upon seeing the bedraggled girl standing in the doorway.

Emma would have been able to keep it together if her roommate had kept a level expression but the immediate concern on her face broke the walls. She collapsed to the floor and cried deep heaving sobs. She felt the woman at her side within seconds, but she couldn't breathe. She was gasping and choking and wanted the world to stop moving and keep her from the impending reality.

"I was so stupid, I shouldn't have been there. And now I've lost him!"

"Emma, what happened. Try and talk to me." Mary Margaret stayed by her side, trying to get an answer. Between sobs Emma relayed her night to her roommate until she was out of breath and laid her head on the floor.

Mary Margaret had never felt this angry. Something ignited within her through the tears running down her face and she grabbed Emma by the arm and drug her out to the street. "I am not letting this happen to you Emma," she yelled as they climbed into her car and she drove straight to Gold' shop.

Again she pulled her out of the car and burst into the shop. Regina and Gold still stood talking at the counter and both turned toward the door in shock.

"How DARE YOU take a child from this girl? What gives you the right?!" Mary Margaret cried, storming to the case where they stood, leaving Emma near the doorway.

"Miss Swan made her choice, Miss Blanchard. It was either this or the child be put into the foster system." Gold spoke evenly, covering himself with a calm expression.

"You and I_ both_ know that those are not the only options._ She_ might not understand that but I do!" Mary Margaret's eyes were still streaming and she felt herself losing all control. Some instinct that was buried deep within her had suddenly come roaring out and she knew this was a fight that she would refuse to lose. She had to protect Emma and the baby. Someone was hurting them, and that someone was going to pay for it.

The room soon became a yelling match, with each side arguing over Emma's fate and that of her son. It was pouring into Emma's ears and she couldn't get rid of the pounding at her temples. Her flight response was triggering, she could feel it as she raced out the door, unnoticed, and traveled back to place she would no longer be able to call home. She grabbed a change of clothing, her wooden box from her dresser, her baby blanket and the file from under her pillow, and got in her car.

For a minute, she stopped, closing her eyes and whispering _good-bye_ before starting her engine and taking off down the long road out of town. As she drove all she thought about was him, her son. She promised that they would never be apart. And even though she knew that he didn't understand it, and would never know otherwise, _she _would. And she knew that she'd never be able to live with the guilt. They could run; forever if they had to.

As long as they had each other.

**This was by far the most painful thing I have ever had to write, I was almost in tears. The reason it might've seemed rushed is because I wanted the whole chapter to almost be Emma's perspective. The contract wasn't questioned, her world was spinning, and her sense of time was obliterated in that moment. She's also a lot younger than people realize and may not know much about things like adoptions, jailing, etc. Please let me know what you thought, and what you think is going to happen from here on out. Thank you for reading/reviewing :)**


	11. Roll Away Your Stone

**ROLL AWAY YOUR STONE**

Dawn was starting to break and the warmth of the rising sun pressed through the window. More than five times throughout the night, Emma had driven out to the town limits, stopped the car and stared at the "_Now Leaving Storybrooke_" sign, before turning back and driving to the opposite end of town, where the road met the sea.

At one point, she had gotten out of her bug and walked up to an old wooden playground that closely resembled a castle. She had never known it was there. Something about seeing it struck her. Her son would have played here. If time could rewind and she had made a different choice all of those months ago, she would be able to watch him climb his castle, and she'd hear his infectious laughter piercing the air.

And then she realized that he still could play there. She just wouldn't be a part of it. She couldn't take a baby on the road. What kind of life would he have if they were always running? And she could never stop at a hospital, even when she went into labor, because her name would be taken down and the cops would find her anyways. And if he was ever sick or there was an emergency, she would have nowhere to take him. He needed a better life.

It was at that time that she had decided that she wouldn't run. She drove back to the apartment slowly, fearing the state that Mary Margaret would be in. She had to learn to accept that this was her last day being free for a long time.

When she stood outside the door, taking a deep breath, she could hear yelling coming from inside. She opened the door a crack and found her roommate screaming into the phone, her face still soaked with tears, and her voicing cracking from having been on the phone for likely most of the night.

"I don't CARE if she hasn't been missing for 24 hours Graham!... I AM being logical. It's morning and she still hasn't shown up!" She was distracted and hadn't heard the door open. Emma didn't enter the apartment but instead peeked through and listened.

Splayed out on the coffee table was a map, a few photos of her that the blonde hadn't Mary Margaret possessed, and a seemingly empty mug.

"Graham, I have been up _all night_. I just need to know that someone is out there looking for her…yes I know that you are but what about other people?... Graham please I am _losing_ it here." At that moment Emma fully entered the room. Mary Margaret shot up in surprise, mumbled a "Nevermind, she's here, bye," into the phone and hung up. She set down the phone immediately and her expression changed to anger.

"Where the _HELL_ have you been?" she growled. The emotion that had overtaken her was in replacement of wanting to break down and cry out of relief.

Emma quickly absorbed the emotional state of her roommate and snapped back. "What did you expect?! I have nothing. I'm going to jail and I've lost the only person I will ever love, so excuse me for running!" Her face was red and tears once again stung the corners of her eyes.

"You should have come to me," the brunette challenged, her voice lowering, but holding a stubborn and disapproving tone.

"Come to _you_? You might think that you're my family but I have no obligation to you. And I'm sorry if I was too busy watching my life fall apart again!" Emma knew what she was saying wasn't how she really felt but somehow she couldn't stop the outpour of resentment she felt towards this woman who'd had nothing but a perfect life.

"Wait! I need to tell y...Emma I know you're…"

"No you DON'T know. You know nothing of my life. You have _no_ idea what I'm thinking when I see you gushing over photos of me talking about how cute I was. You don't know that underneath the long sleeve shirt I had on were bruises from one of my foster father's rampages. You don't know that I was left on the side of the road after I was born, because my parents didn't even love me enough to take me to a hospital. You don't know every scar, every bad relationship, every situation that I got myself into and couldn't find a way out of. You have no idea who I am, or what I feel. No one ever knows me."

She was choking out each sentence as her wall crumbled to dust. "I was never loved, I was never wanted, I was never _anything_ to _anyone_. And as soon as I finally found someone who would love me, my _own_ child, I lost him too. No one will ever love me." She released a sharp cry and finally fell into painful wailing sobs. Her head was spinning and she sank to the ground leaning against the front door, shaking and gasping for air. She couldn't focus anymore, she felt empty as though every reason to live had been sucked from her chest. She was alone.

Mary Margaret moved to speak. "Emma…" she said with sadness, but trying to comfort her from afar.

"Don't," she argued back. "Just don—"

"No Emma. Listen to me. It was all a lie!" Mary Margaret spoke, her voice soft but solid. "I went to see Graham after you disappeared and he checked to see the reasons for arrest, and he found that there's no warrant out for you. The case is still closed on whoever they convicted."

Emma sat up, "But…?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Then I've lost him for nothing?!"

"No! No!" Mary Margaret clarified, rushing to the girl and putting her hands on either side of Emma's face, looking straight into her eyes. "I took care of it. I promise. He's yours. I don't know what Gold's goal was in taking your son but he's not going to have him." Emma's eyes stared back, glistening.

"But how? I signed the papers, he's not going to just destroy them if he set this up."

"Like I said, I took care of it." Emma's eyes begged for an explanation. "But right now it doesn't matter what I did. What matters is that you can keep your son."

The smile that spread onto her face was one stronger than Mary Margaret had ever seen before. It grew up to her watery eyes and she looked as though she was going to laugh. In that moment, Emma didn't care how it was done, or what else was to come her way. She got to stay his mother.

Mary Margaret walked Emma to the couch, laid her head in her lap, and ran her fingers through her hair. This act only made Emma cry more, but instead of wracking sobs, she was crying softer and her throat was tight.

"Thank you," she whispered. Even though she was getting a happier ending, she was still emotionally worn from the last two days and she let the tears still escape. Whether they were from happiness or reflection on her past, she didn't know. But the release was cathartic, and she finally felt like she could breathe again.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an hour, drifting in and out of thought. _Tomorrow._ Mary Margaret thought. _They could deal with what to do about Gold and the mayor tomorrow._ It was unsettling that she couldn't understand their driving force behind wanting the child. Why go to such great lengths? Somewhere deep down she thought she knew but couldn't grasp it.

Emma's breathing had shallowed, and her body was finally still. Mary continued tracing her fingers through her curls, despite the ache in her tired arm.

Suddenly Emma sat up, her face scrunched. She paused for a moment as though waiting for something. "Oww," she groaned, her brow furrowing and her mouth agape, looking up at Mary Margaret. "No," she breathed. "Not now."

**Guess what that means!? ;) **

**(major cred to 7Seven7 for grammatical correction and helping me maintain my sanity)**


	12. Little Lion Man

**Okay just read it. I can't even, this was my favorite chapter to write.**

**LITTLE LION MAN**

Emma cried out in pain as another contraction hit her. She knew it was coming, they had been timing them as instructed by the doctor but she still felt unprepared.

"Just breathe Emma," Mary Margaret spoke soothingly, pressing a rag onto her forehead. The schoolteacher was surprised how well she had contained her nerves. The baby was coming early, much too early, and she knew that, and she guessed Emma did too, but she didn't dare to voice it. Her left hand lay mangled in Emma's right, red from the sporadic, and quite frankly painful, squeezing. But she knew Emma was experiencing much worse.

Emma laid her head back on the pillow, her face strained, and out of breath. "Okay, less than two minutes. We're getting closer," the brunette spoke encouragingly. "You're doing great." To be honest, Mary Margaret was screaming on the inside. She had no idea what to say or how to handle the situation. Each time Emma cried out she thought that she might burst into tears that she couldn't comfort her.

"No…" Emma moaned, her head shaking side to side before she looked into Mary Margaret's eyes, pain written in her own. "I can't do this. I ca—aHHHH!" She leaned forward and gripped her roommate's hand tightly. "I can't. Do this," she cried between the pain. "It's too early. He can't be coming." She laid back as the contraction ended and more tears rained on her cheeks; tears that she thought she would have been out of by now. "I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be a mom," her voice was high and her neck muscles tensed as she spoke.

"You are ready," Mary spoke, "And you have me. I won't ever leave you."

Just then the nurses came in the door, "How long?" they asked, looking to the schoolteacher.

"A minute and a ha—" she started but was interrupted by another sharp cry from Emma. "Make that a minute and fifteen."

"Okay Emma," one of them spoke. "You're progressing much faster than we thought. We're gonna start getting you ready to push. The doctor will be in few moments."

Her eyes widened in fear. "No. No no no. I'm not ready. I'm not ready," she sobbed.

"Why don't you go grab a quick drink of water, and by the time you're back we'll be ready," another nurse directed Mary Margaret.

"I'll be right back," she spoke to Emma. "I _promise_." The way that Emma looked at her almost broke her to pieces, but she turned away knowing that she needed a minute outside to gather her own sanity.

She tensed as she heard another scream of pain blast through as she shut the door and walked into the hallway. Immediately she heard someone call her name. "James!" She looked up, and saw him racing towards her. Almost immediately her resolve broke and she burst into tears.

He pulled her into his chest and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" he asked, expecting the worst.

"No, they're both fine. Well, Emma's not really _fine_. And as you can see, I'm falling apart by the minute," she sobbed, allowing herself to chuckle slightly. For a minute he just held her there, allowing her to let it out.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. "She's in so much pain, and I can't help her. I can't stop it. She so _young_ James. And I know this is crazy, but sitting in there and watching her hurting like that… I keep feeling like I'm watching my own child being hurt, and I can't do anything no matter how much she begs me."

"Mary Margaret, you being there for her is enough. Now," he wiped her wet face free of tears, "She needs you, and I know that you want to be there, so don't let me keep you." He gave her one last peck on the forehead before sending her off and watching her walk back into the room, where more cries were breaking through the walls. He cringed, and nervously shuffled to the sitting area to wait.

* * *

"Mary make it stop!" Emma pleaded, her head curling forward as she released another bellowing cry. She delivered another bone crushing squeeze to the brunette's hand as a fresh layer of sweat broke the surface of her skin.

Mary Margaret could only speak words of encouragement, trying not to allow herself to break down in front of the younger woman. The doctor ordered another push and Emma protested, "I can't. I can't do it." But with the next wave of contractions, she had no choice and she writhed forward again.

"You're almost there Emma, I promise," Mary Margaret lied. She had no idea how close she was, but she hoped that the words would help. After a few more rounds, the doctor echoed her statement, and announced that it would be five or six more.

Emma leaned backward on the bed, lying on her spine. She was exhausted and trembling and the nurses were looking worried. "She needs to sit up," they instructed Mary Margaret, hoping she might be able to coax her.

"Emma, you need to sit up. You are _almost_ there. You can do it." But all she got in response was a shake of the head, as her face fought the crippling pain.

Mary Margaret looked pleadingly at the nurses, searching for help. "Here," one of the walked toward her and whispered instructions in her ear. "Would to be comfortable with that?" she asked, to which the brunette only nodded, trying not to show any doubt in herself.

"Okay, Emma," she spoke loudly to the girl on the bed. "You need to sit up and scoot forward a little. We're gonna have Mary sit on the bed behind you okay. That way you can lean against her. And it'll help make it easier okay?" Emma obeyed weakly, and Mary Margaret slid in behind her, her knees bent and her legs on either side of the blonde. She sat upright as best as she could, and placed both of Emma's hands in her own, bracing against the weight of the young girl collapsing onto her.

"Alright Emma, no more breaks. Let's go. Give me a good one," the doctor called out. And she did, pressing her back against her roommate and screaming loudly. "Good. The head's almost out. Three more."

Mary Margaret felt like she couldn't breathe under the pressure of Emma pushing against her, but she stayed there, pressing back in assistance as the nurse had instructed, and keeping her hands gripped tightly in the blonde's. After two final pushes, Emma collapsed back onto her all of the way and a sharp little cry pierced the air.

The doctor shuffled around, clipping the cord, and checking the airways. Whilst he did so, the two women remained on the bed, Emma's entire weight placed upon the torso of Mary Margaret. The brunette could feel the young girl's heart pounding rapidly and heavily, and she allowed her eyes to close. Emma's hair was a bedraggled mess, she was soaked with sweat, and she hurt everywhere. But she didn't care. Mary Margaret took one hand and pulled the hair back from Emma's forehead. The blonde's head moved with her hand, allowing the comforting gesture to take her from the moment.

The doctor finished his work and called out to the women, holding him up. A beautiful, wailing, squirming little boy. A nurse quickly swaddled him in a blanket and brought him around to the bed and placed him in Emma's arms, who was beaming, her eyes glued to him. Mary Margaret remained, essentially trapped, behind her roommate and watched, tears once again pricking her eyes as the young woman held her son for the first time. The minute he reached her grasp, his crying subsided and he curled in towards her. His eyes opened to the light and Emma laughed.

"Hi there," she cooed. "I'm your mom, kid." Her head fell back and she breathed a full exhale for the first time in twelve hours. When the back of her head hit Mary Margaret's soft chest, she turned her head back suddenly, having forgotten that she was there. She smiled up at her. "Thank you."

Mary Margaret could only smile back. The pain in her hands was shoved aside and the ache in heart was replaced by overwhelming love. As Emma sat forward, she clamored out from behind her and stood at the side of the bed, helped the blonde adjust the pillows so she could sit up and, watched her gaze at her son.

"He's so small," Emma spoke softly.

At that moment a nurse walked to the other side of the bed, and informed her that they needed to take him for some basic exams, but he would be returned to her soon. Reluctantly Emma let her take him from her arms and she watched them the entire way out of the room.

"You were amazing Emma," Mary Margaret remarked, sitting down on the space on the bed that Emma made for her.

"Thanks," she replied. "But next time I get involved with someone, please remind me how much that hurt. I'm not doing that again for a _long _time." She managed to let out a small chuckle.

As the nurse had promised, minutes later they returned with the baby and placed him back in his mother's arms. "Have you chosen a name?" She asked, grabbing a clipboard off the table in the corner of the room.

"Henry, Henry Matthew Swan," Emma cooed. "After a childhood friend of mine." The nurse nodded.

"What a beautiful name. And we'll have someone come back in a bit and help you with the first feeding," she replied, exiting the room.

Emma flushed slightly, realizing what that would entail, but looking back into her son's face, the rest of the world melted away.

"Henry…." Mary Margaret rolled the name over her tongue. "Why after that particular childhood friend?" she asked politely, gazing at his tiny features.

"I knew him from school, and we got along right away because we both were foster kids. He was my best friend throughout second grade. But he'd always come to school with really serious injuries; it was a bad situation in his home. One day the teacher pulled me aside after class and said that he had _passed away suddenly_. I didn't even need an explanation; I knew what had happened," she sighed sadly at the memory. "His foster father was incarcerated and I never heard anything after that. But his memory has always stuck with me. He was the first, and last, true friend that I ever had. Until you," she added.

It was the perfect name; a perfect way to honor a life lost too young.

Later that night, after she had said her goodbye to James, and returned to the room, Mary Margaret found Emma asleep and Henry in the same state in the hospital bassinet to Emma's right. The nurses had asked if she wanted him to sleep in the public room with the other babies, but she had refused and asked that he stay.

Mary Margaret watched them peacefully sleep and couldn't resist placing a small kiss on each of their foreheads, before situating herself on the chair that she had somewhat converted into a bed. Closing her eyes, she finally allowed sleep to overtake her after almost forty consecutive hours spent awake. The darkness seeped into her the brain and she felt her dreams beginning to surface. And just as she touched the realm of complete unconsciousness, a baby's cry erupted in her ears.

**Baby Henry! I didn't want to change the name, because of how it fits him now, so I made my own story for it. PLEASE tell me what you thought.**

**7Seven7, you will always get a thank you. (For anyone whose wondering, that MM sitting behind Emma thing IS a real delivery technique. It provides better support, but you have to be seriously strong [or a mother helping their child haha] to be the person behind). I hope I did the whole giving birth thing justice. Being _only_ Emma's age, and far less Emma-ish, I have not had a baby ;)**


	13. After the Storm

**Loved the response for the last chapter! Thank you all so much. And now since we have Henry in the mix, we can have a little fun. But it will mostly remain fluffy :).**

**AFTER THE STORM**

"People who say they sleep like babies, usually don't have them."

–**Leo J. Burke**

After three nights with Henry home, Mary Margaret had come to realize many things. Firstly, that she no longer required a mirror. In short, she was an exact replica of her roommate in both appearance and attitude. Her hair exploded outward in all directions, her clothing was rumpled and wreaked of spit-up, the dark circles pouring from her eyes were a ghastly shade of brown, and she was irritable beyond belief.

Her second realization was that despite her current state, she was unable to make Emma do it all on her own. She had insisted that for at least the first week, Emma and Henry stay downstairs; the blonde in the bed next to her and the baby in his bassinet at the foot of the bed. Every midnight waking, she was there.

Thirdly, she became aware of the fact that her blissful picture of what childbirth and the subsequent parenthood must be like was entirely obliterated. Somewhere inside her she thought she felt a small piece of her dreams die. She would never again be able to get certain scarring and frightening images out of her head.

And yet every warm and beautiful moment that had come from the last five days, even before Henry and Emma came home, overshadowed every lost hour of sleep and every headache from piercing cries. It would be a journey, but the little things were what reminded her how beautiful life could be.

And then her peaceful dreams would be shattered by a consciousness-rattling cry.

Henry was awake. Again.

The greatest amount of movement she could muster was a swing of her right arm through the air, aimed at hitting her roommate to wake her up. But to her surprise, her hand touched down on warm sheets, with no one upon them. She sat up slowly and saw that Emma was already out of bed and to where Henry lay, lifting him out gingerly and soothing him with soft spoken phrases. The blonde shuffled into the kitchen, warmed a bottle, then moved back to the bed and got in, sitting up against the headboard.

While Emma fed him, Mary Margaret sat in thought. Emma had taken to parenthood so quickly; it was quite the pleasant surprise. In the last few days, something had changed in the young woman. Yes, she still had a lot to learn, and broke down when she couldn't calm Henry's crying, and had not exactly been adept at changing diapers, but she _was_ learning and was turning out to be a great mother.

"Mary Margaret, go back to sleep." A whisper came from the shadows of the blonde's form. "You don't have to keep staying up with me. Really."

Mary Margaret tried her best to hold in a yawn but it roared silently past her tongue. "No. I'm fine. I need to make sure you don't fall asleep, don't I?"

How she was able to have a sense of humor, and still make a convincing argument at three in the morning, neither of the women would ever know.

"Emma?" she called quietly, to which the girl responded with a turn of her head. "I'm sorry." Mary Margaret paused, trying to decide whether or not it would be smart to continue. "I'm sorry for all of those things that happened to you before you came to live with me. I, I just can't remember if I told you that back when you first said them, so I wanted to tell you now."

Emma felt her eyes starting to twinge with tears, but she breathed in deeply, feeling Henry move with the rise and fall of her chest. No one had ever acknowledged her past, much less felt sympathetic about it. Most people stared back blankly, or told her to get over it. New foster families didn't dare to ask, and instead tried smothering her with artificial love out of pity. Never once had anyone apologized sincerely. And even though she knew that she wasn't receiving the apologies from the actual people who hurt her, especially from her parents, somehow she felt a part of that need fulfilled.

"Thank you," she murmured back, glad that the billowing darkness hid her true emotions.

Never in a million years would Emma have imagined that she would end up in a small town, at eighteen, and pregnant, and would find the home that she had always yearned for, with a schoolteacher in her late twenties. She had only been living with this woman for two and a half months and yet she felt like she was family. But it wasn't the time that made the difference. It was each gesture, each moment of love or forgiveness; even the moments where Mary Margaret looked at her with such a stern expression that she thought she might collapse under the pressure of trying to make her proud.

This woman had become her best friend, her sister, and even her mother in some ways. But Emma was too afraid to tell her so. She was too afraid to let her know that what she had done for her in the hospital had meant more to her than anything else anyone had ever done for her. In that moment, Mary Margaret had put her own fears aside and had crossed a barrier that neither of them would normally have been brave enough to break. That moment was the moment that Emma realized that she couldn't imagine the rest of her life without her in it. They were family.

Whether it was the rush of hormones from holding Henry to her chest, or the sappiness of her thoughts, Emma's veins suddenly coursed with courage. She turned back to the other woman and spoke,

"Mary Margaret," the brunette's eyes looked to her, glinting in the moonlight splitting through the blinds of a nearby window. "Will…. Will you be Henry's godmother?" she pushed out.

There was no mistaking, even in the shadows, the glowing grin that spread onto Mary Margaret's face. "Really?" she asked, her voice laden with happiness.

"Yeah, I mean, after all that you have done for me and you know… and you were really there for me when he was born, and I just, I wanna thank you sort of," she stammered quietly. Her eyes hung low as she willed herself to form a complete sentence. Henry finished eating, so she set the bottle aside, and adjusted him into the crook of her arm.

Within seconds she felt the entire bed jerk and Mary's arms suddenly surrounded her, much like an excited child. For a while Emma just sat there, letting this woman squeeze her, feeling shocked and surprised, yet happy in her grasp. "Thank you Emma. That's mean so much to me. Yes, of course I'll be his godmother," she finally responded, releasing the young mother, but staying at her side.

Mary Margaret gazed down at the little boy curled happily into his mother's arms, his eyes dancing around in the darkness. "And I was thinking…" Emma's hesitant words interrupted the silence that had fallen. "And I'm a little afraid of what you'll do when I tell you this, so, basically, the hug was cool, but I swear if you kiss me…." she spoke with a look of mock sternness before continuing, "Since I'm the only family Henry has, and he's never going to have grandparents or anything, that… he could call you his Aunt, maybe."

The fourth thing that Mary Margaret realized occurred in this very moment. She realized that family does not come from blood, or even marriage. Family is defined by something bigger; a choice. Family is chosen, not provided by default.

Heeding Emma's wishes, she withheld her want to embrace her once more. Instead she returned her attention to Henry remarking, "He has your chin."

Emma glanced upward, "You think so? Unfortunately for me I think he looks like his dad." Emma sighed. She could only hope that the physical traits were all that Henry would inherit.

Mary Margaret's brow wrinkled slightly. "You've never mentioned his father before," she spoke with caution.

"Yeah, and there's a lot of reasons why. But honestly, the middle of the night isn't exactly the time to talk about them," Emma responded, almost sounding apologetic but knowing she wasn't near anywhere ready enough to talk about that specific part of her past.

"Of course," Mary Margaret replied calmly. There would always be more questions and more gaps to fill with Emma, but it was slowly getting easier to not wonder, and to just accept it. Feeling brave, she moved her arms toward the bundle in Emma's arms, wiggled her fingers slightly and looking into her eyes asked, "Can I?"

Without a word Emma lifted the now sleeping Henry from her and placed him into the open arms of her waiting roommate. He stirred slightly at the movement, but his eyes remained closed and he settled comfortably against the other familiar woman. The look of pure love on Mary Margaret's features filled Emma with a longing for someone to look at her that way.

To look at her as though she meant the entire world to them. A look that was given to a child by someone older who loved them with all of their being. Someone who would always be family.

Shutting her eyes, her head fell back against the wooden headboard. _Just for a _minute, she thought. Darkness formed a well in her eyes and then with a start they opened and she found herself in a different position. She was splayed out in the bed, the _empty_ bed. She crawled to the end and peered to where Henry would be laying, but she found it empty. She began to panic, racing out into the apartment but coming up short when she spotted them across the living room. Swaying in small circles around the room, Mary Margaret held a quiet Henry, her eyes never leaving him.

Upon hearing a creak in the floorboards where Emma stepped, she looked up and let out a tiny smile. "I put him back in his bed after you feel asleep but he woke up again two hours later. You didn't hear him right away so I thought I would just let you sleep. I think he just wanted to be held some more." Her soothing voice rippled through Emma's tired body. "Go back to sleep Emma. We're doing just fine."

The whispered command drew a thankful look from the blonde before she returned to the frumpled bed and the depths of her dreams.

Mary Margaret returned her gaze to Henry and basked in the feeling he gave her. He wasn't her child in any way, she knew that and made sure that Emma knew that she would never cross her parenting or spot as his mother, she just felt so at peace with a baby in her midst. It made her feel like she had experienced this once before but for some reason it had ended or the moment had been ripped from her, and that was why she craved it so much.

Floating around the room, her foot grazed a small stack of boxes that she recognized as Emma's. Upon further thought she realized that they must have been the things that she had taken with her when she left. When she'd had a time to bring them back upstairs, she didn't know. Slowly she went to turn away but a flash of purple in her peripheral vision brought her to a halt.

On top of one open box was an ivory knitted blanket with beautiful waves of violet ribbon sewn along the edge. Curiosity overcame her and she lifted it with the hand not carrying Henry, and studied it until she noticed the corner. _Emma_. This must have been Emma's as a child. Possibly the only thing she had left from her parents.

Without thinking, she lifted it to her nose, and breathed in its scent. It sent chills down her spine as if from a memory. If she closed her eyes she could almost picture it, but in the end, nothing came forth. With a shiver, she set it back in the box, took one last lingering look at it and then turned back toward the center of the room and continued her dance around the furniture.

**We officially have three chapters left. Any theories on how it might end? Or just reviews on what you thought?**


	14. I Gave You All

**I don't know about you but I think it's about time we get some answers about Rumple and Mary Margaret's agreement, no?**

**I GAVE YOU ALL**

"It's been _two weeks_ Graham." Mary Margaret spoke in a hushed tone. Emma was outside in the hall giving Henry a diaper change, so she had seized the moment to talk to the Sheriff alone.

"I know. But you have no evidence to prove it…" He was trying his best to be structured about his approach despite wanting desperately to help his young colleague. "And not even a possible reason behind why they would have done it. You had Mr. Gold destroy the only physical evidence that there was when you made him burn the contract."

"Can't you at least question them? Apply a little bit of pressure maybe they'll confess?" Mary Margaret knew she was grasping at straws.

"I could, but you need to understand something Mary Margaret; Regina and Mr. Gold run this town. At least if there was a physical crime there would be a chance they would slip up in covering their tracks, but this accusation is nothing to go on." The Sheriff leaned against Emma's desk and sighed. "I want to help, I promise. But we're out of luck here."

Mary Margaret glanced into the hallway where Emma was smiling down at the bundle in her arms. Worry coursed through her, and she looked back Graham. "How do we know they won't try something like this again?"

Graham reached out hesitantly and rested a hand upon her shoulder. "Because…what else could they do? You already caught them, they won't try again."

The words were no comfort for her. Sometimes Mary Margaret felt like she and Emma were the only rational ones. How could Graham have so much blind faith? Mr. Gold had an amazing amount of power, she realized that now. Who was to say that he couldn't easily frame her and Emma both for something, truly leaving Henry to the dogs? And where was Regina's place in all of this? Was she just a pawn, or was she the mastermind behind it all?

It filled her with great unease to know that she still had her end of the deal to fulfill with Gold. The way in which he had hissed his only request made her skin crawl. What kind of "favor" was he implying? Though no paper was signed she had a feeling that she would have no choice but to abide by the agreement when the time came.

"_A favor, Gold?! You traded the child for a favor? What was my purpose in all of this then?" Regina was fuming._

"_Your purpose is not yet finished. You have been playing your part quite well in fact." Rumple moved around his shop mindlessly arranging items, knowing that each second that he did so Regina's blood boiled hotter._

"_You know what I think? I think I AM finished. I will find some other way to handle Miss Swan myself. You are just a man who is wasting away and finds his only pleasure in destroying his own conquests," Regina sneered. _

"_Please…" he bellowed in reply. Her lips were immediately shut and her nostrils flared in agitation._

"_Once I am finished with my plans this town is going to be a very different place Your Majesty. And I would say that you will want me as an ally not an enemy when that time comes."_

_Swiftly Regina stormed out of the small shop and Gold was left to himself. A favor? Did she really think he would give away that child for a favor? He was insulted. No, of course not. But the single hair that had floated down from dear Mary Margaret's head whilst she yelled was enough for him to change his course of action. This world contained no magic, but it still contained true love… And Regina must have kept some magical items for safe keeping somewhere. And he bet that he knew exactly where._

_He carefully lifted the short hair from the counter, tucked it into a small vial, and set out to fetch the two other things he required; the second hair, and little bit of magic._

Mary Margaret would never wish to go back. She still would give anything if it meant Emma could keep her son. They were the closest thing she had to family. And she couldn't lose that.

"Fine," she huffed, seeing Emma moving toward them. She preferred to let the subject drop, rather than worry the young mother whom already had enough on her plate.

Emma entered the office and did her best to ignore the tension in the air. Mary Margaret excused herself to use the restroom leaving Graham and Emma standing there alone. Henry began to fuss, so Emma glanced at the clock. Seeing what time it was, she quickly shifted him in her arms and moved toward Graham.

Lifting Henry towards him she spoke flatly, "Here can you hold him for a second? I need to feed him." Taking the bundle into his arms, Graham was rigid and awkward, unsure of how to hold a baby. Noticing this, Emma chuckled and adjusted his arms, trying to contain a grin at his apparent discomfort. "There."

Once he was relatively settled, she began to take off her jacket, looking up when Graham cleared his throat in surprise.

"You're gonna do that, _here_?" His face displayed all sorts of uncomfortable as he tried not to look below her neck. At first she was confused, but then she cackled loudly.

"Graham, I'm just a little warm. Honestly. I bottle-feed Henry." Immediately his face relaxed only followed by a hint of a blush.

"Sorry. I just thought…" he stammered.

"Yeah, I know what you _just thought_. Now stop thinkin' it," she retorted, shaking her jacket off her shoulders and slinging it over her desk chair. Reaching into the diaper bag she lifted out a bottle, took it to the microwave and warmed it until the temperature was to her liking.

"Do you want to...?" she asked Graham, holding up the bottle and nodding toward Henry.

"Oh no. Thank you." He handed Henry back to his mother, and returned to his awkward place by the desk. He watched as she directed the bottle to Henry's mouth, coaxing him to feed until he finally began to guzzle it down. Once he was settled, her gaze went back to Graham.

"So, how is she?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. Graham's eyebrows raised in question.

"Mary Margaret. This whole thing with Gold really seems to have thrown her for a loop. And she won't talk to me about it. I think she thinks I haven't noticed her nervous energy but she hasn't been the same since then. And I know it's not just me." The tone in Emma's voice slowly slipped from question to genuine concern. She, herself, preferred to approach the situation with the stance that if Gold or Regina came after her again, she would know what to do or how to handle it. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, seemed to doubt it all.

Graham studied the face of his colleague. "She's fine," he answered, hoping to end the questions. "I've promised her that there is nothing to worry about. We may not be able to do anything by law, but this is a small town. It's very easy to know everyone's business and dealings around here."

Emma swore she felt herself relax slightly at his statement. His confidence was reassuring; she liked that. "Thanks," she replied with half a smile.

Mary Margaret returned, breaking the muted conversation, and mentioned that they should go back home, given the time. Emma nodded in agreement and gathered her things. Henry had just finished a bottle and he would need to go down soon.

Arriving back at the apartment, Emma set Henry in the portable crib set up in the living room and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

"Oh Emma. I'm so sorry, I should have told you this earlier," Mary Margaret called out from the kitchen, "But I've invited James over for dinner tonight. Only if that's okay with you of course. He just doesn't seem to be able to cook for himself very well and I thought he could use a homemade meal." For some reason, internally she said _sound familiar?_

"Yeah sure that's fine. I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to him or see him since the hospital so… sure." Emma shrugged. Besides, she kind of wanted to see the dynamic between the two. Mary Margaret was like a giddy teenager when she spoke about him. Emma couldn't imagine what she'd be like in his presence.

Four hours later he arrived, flowers in hand and a smile on his face. His knock on the door immediately altered Mary Margaret's demeanor and she flitted to the door, almost too eagerly, and opened it wide. "Come on in," she instructed warmly.

"Hey Emma," he greeted, sending a kind expression toward the young woman who was seated on the couch, holding her son.

"Hi James, nice to see you again," she replied.

"So, should we eat?" Mary Margaret piped up. The food had just finished and there wasn't much room for conversation given the slight awkwardness in the air.

The meal went relatively smoothly, idle chit chat graced the table and James continuously laughed aloud. Emma could only watch her roommate's eyes constantly glued to his face, taking in his every word or expression. Suddenly Henry began to cry from his place in the living room, and she moved her chair back to stand up.

"Oh! Emma. Can I? If you don't… mind," James asked hesitantly. Emma was taken aback at his wish, and especially by how forward it was. She barely knew him, and he obviously had no connection to Henry either. But something deep within her trusted him.

"Um, sure. Yeah." She watched him rise from the table and walk to the crib, gingerly lifting a squirming Henry from it. The way he held him almost made it look as though he really knew what he was doing. Taking a peek back across the table she almost choked on her water at the look on Mary Margaret's face.

It wasn't a humorous look in any way, just a very strong one. Emma could almost see the woman's heart exploding in her eyes. Mary was looking at him as though there was nothing else in the world that could make her happy. Emma rolled her eyes.

Mary Margaret had never felt it before, this undeniable feeling of love toward someone for something so little. There was honestly nothing more attractive to her than the image before her. A man holding a baby. The way he cuddled Henry to his strong chest and rocked him lightly made her almost ache. She couldn't help but want that with him. But was that too fast? To think like that so early in their relationship? They'd barely had the time to discuss that one night. But she could see her entire future with him. It was all that she wanted.

"Mary Margaret." She heard the sly whisper through her trance. "You should consider wiping that look of your face before he gets back over here. You might scare him off."

Her eyes flashed to Emma who gave her a smirk. She shook her head lightly and cleared her expression, and tossing her a look of thanks.

James made his way back to the table, and sat down contentedly, beginning a new conversation.

Later that night, after reemerging into the apartment, slightly disheveled after her good-bye with James, Mary Margaret walked to the kitchen to finish the dishes. She ignored the knowing look on Emma's face with a mumbled, "Shut up," and an attempt at hiding a smile. She wouldn't allow herself to be toyed with by a teenager, she just wouldn't.

But she couldn't help but ooze about how great he looked with a baby, while Emma sat listening and indulged her. There truly was nothing sexier than a man with a baby in his arms; they both had to agree, though picturing completely different people in their heads.

**About to insert some drama to give it a specific type of ending. Two more chapters, what could I possibly have planned? ;)**


	15. Awake My Soul

**AWAKE MY SOUL**

There were three things that quieted Henry down when he was overworked and crying endlessly; being sung to, being held stomach down with one arm and rubbed on his back by the other, and long drives in the car.

Normally the shifts consoling him would alternate, and when one method didn't work right away the two women would trade and attempt a different tactic. But over time they had started to master the pattern. So, by the time Henry was three weeks old, life had settled back into somewhat of a routine.

Despite the fact that the attempt to go after Gold had fallen through, Graham had promised to look out for them, and sometimes at night if Mary Margaret looked at the window, she would see him passing by in the Sheriff's car, pausing for a couple minutes or so before continuing his rounds.

She knew that soon though, that would be partially Emma's job. They had needed to find a situation in which she and Mary Margaret worked different hours so that Henry would always have someone home with him. Twice a week Emma would take him to the office with her during the day, and then the other three nights, she would patrol around, call Graham if there was an issue, and Mary Margaret would put Henry to bed.

Emma had no idea what she would've done without Mary Margaret. If she had been on her own she would've had to try to find a way to afford daycare; not that she would ever truly trust some other person with her son. But she really wouldn't have had a choice.

This day in particular was one of _those_ days. Henry had been unsettled since he woke, and no amount of feedings, diaper changes, or consoling could calm him down. His red face scrunched tightly as his bellowing cry blasted in Emma's face as she tried once more to rock him to sleep. She tried the simple bounce, the sway, the circles, even the more dramatic tilting; nothing worked. Looking up from her standing spot in the living her room she watched Mary Margaret prepare lunch.

Their eyes met for a moment, sending each other the same message; there wasn't much else that could be done, he just had to cry it out. Balancing him easily in her left arm, Emma grabbed her sandwich from the counter once it was finished, and took her seat on the couch beside her roommate. They ate in silence—rather, what would've been silence if the soft crying wasn't present—taking a moment to pause from their frantic routine.

Once they finished, Mary Margaret reach for Henry so Emma could do the dishes. Taking him into her arms, she spoke out suddenly, "Oh! Emma, he's _burning up_!"

Emma turned toward her quickly, a worried look on her face. "What?"

"Henry, he's hot. He must have a fever. Quick get me the thermometer from the medicine cabinet."

Emma was frantic, she raced into the kitchen and was back with the baby thermometer within seconds. "I, I didn't notice. I thought it was just me." She fumbled the device in her hands as her head spun a million scenarios.

"103. Emma, that's not good, we need to take him to the hospital. Go grab my purse and meet me downstairs." Mary Margaret started toward the door, doing her best to steady her nerves. She happened to glance back before opening the door and saw Emma still standing at her spot in the living room.

Emma felt frozen. She couldn't move, as though something was holding her there. What had she done to her son?

"Emma!" Mary Margaret's yell broke her trance, and suddenly she could feel again. She grabbed the few items and followed her out the door, her head remaining clouded and blurry.

The hospital was nothing but a rush of nurses asking questions about Henry, with the two women doing their best to give them as much information as they could. He was quickly whisked away and they were told to stay in the waiting room for a few minutes and would be sent for soon. They paced, not daring to take a seat, Mary Margaret playing with her ring, and Emma tightening her hands and longing for something to smash.

"It's my fault, I'm so sorry. I must have brought it home from one of my students, I never meant to get him sick," Mary Margaret rambled, her eyes squinting tightly and staring at the ground.

"No it's not your fault," Emma uttered quietly. "I should've noticed he was too warm. I should've been paying attention. I should've been a better moth—"

"Emma _don't_. You are a fantastic mother. You're just new to this. I know as much about it as you do. It's all just _new_." The brunette walked to her friend and lifted her chin to look directly into her eyes.

The fear glistened in Emma's eyes and the corners were pink from agitating rubbing in an attempt to keep tears away. "He's going to be fine."

Just as Mary Margaret finished her sentence, Dr. Whale emerged in the doorway, his face looking forlorn. "You may both come in now."

They followed close behind, and walked into the children's wing, which was oddly vacant. But none of them had the time to take notice. They entered a moderately sized room with different small medical beds, a crib and lots of monitors. Two nurses stood over a particular bed, trying to shush a screaming Henry, as they pressed monitoring tabs onto his bare chest, and secured the IV in his tiny leg.

"Just to warn you, he's going to have some wires connected to him, this is just to monitor his fever and get some fluids into him. We've given him a small dosage of children's Tylenol in hopes of bringing the fever down, but until that happens all you can do is try your best to comfort him," Dr. Whale turned and left, leaving the two women standing in the doorway.

Emma rushed forward and reaching out to rub Henry's chest but on nurse swatted it away. "You can't touch him. You'll only raise his fever."

A tingling pain shot into Emma's chest and she looked down at him lying there, helpless, alone, and reaching out for her. "But Dr. Whale said I have to comfort him. He needs me."

"No," the other nurse replied swiftly, "Now, we are going to go fetch a fan to cool down the room, and another bag of fluids. _Leave him in the bed._"

Emma felt like she was being chastised. She knew the women must have seen how young she was and rushed to judge that she was irresponsible. They shuffled out, and she watched, her eyes eventually falling on Mary Margaret who looked small standing in the corner, her eyes lost within her thoughts.

"Mary, quickly," Emma's face steeled with resolve as an idea came to her. "Take a towel from the clean towel bin in the hallway, run it under cold water and bring it back."

The teacher did as she was told and returned, with a quizzical look on her face. "Emma what do you need this f…Oh." Her face lit up as she realized. "They won't like this, you know." She couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her lips.

"Yeah? Well I could care less. He's my son, and he needs me to hold him."

Mary Margaret handed Emma the cold damp towel and responded, "Emma wait. You're wearing a long sleeve shirt; I have a thin undershirt on beneath my sweater. I'll trade with you; it'll keep both of you cooler." Ignoring the hesitant look on her roommate's face, she stripped down to her bra quickly and threw the shirt at Emma, slipping back into her sweater with ease.

Allowing herself some humor, Emma couldn't resist remarking, "Huh. Fast undresser, no wonder you and James made quick work."

Mary Margaret shot her a look before turning away, seemingly trying to give Emma some privacy. "Honestly?" The blonde said laughing slightly. "I swear the stretch marks aren't _that_ scarring."

"Oh, no. I just thought you might…Nevermind," she sighed, turning back. Quickly Emma changed her top and Mary Margaret helped her drape the wet towel on her chest. Carefully lifting Henry out of the bed, and adjusting the cords she held him against the cool moisture of the rag. Immediately his tense little body relaxed and his crying softened. Humming quietly, she swayed until his eyes closed.

Quickly his ragged breathing leveled and his chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his sleep. The nurses returned within moments, but held in any protest and proceeded to take turns rotating in and out of the room to check Henry's vitals.

After a few hours of changing out the wet rag and giving Henry more fluids, very little progress had been made. Henry's temperature still ran high and his crying had returned. Emma could see it in his face; he was uncomfortable, but setting him down only made it worse.

As it grew later, the air temperature decreased and she felt herself wanting to shiver, but she knew that if she did so Mary Margaret would insist that she put Henry down for a while and warm up. But she couldn't do it, she would rather be chilled to the bone than leave him alone when he didn't feel well.

Dr. Whale shuffled into the room, glanced at the monitors, and begun whispering with the nurses, flinching as Henry's wails swelled. He turned toward Emma's pacing figure and looked upon her with tightness in his face.

"Emma. Henry's fever hasn't gone down; in fact it's actually risen slightly."

Emma felt her mind fly in all directions. "What does that mean?" Her voice sounded tight as she spoke.

"Sometimes nothing, it could just be a difficult fever to break… Or, there could be complications." Whale's head hung low and he danced around the blatant truth.

"Complications? Dr. Whale, please, you need to tell me." Emma stepped toward him, holding Henry closer, her eyes begging for answers.

Dr. Whale inhaled slowly and then sighed. "A high fever in an infant, that has lasted this long, could cause any number of issues. Brain damage being the front runner, and the second being seizures. Either of which would be life threatening or could cause him to live a _very_ _different_ life than a stereotypical child."

She felt like the world had blown her backwards. She reached back behind her for something to lean on and found herself lead to one of the chairs near the small bed.

Her eyes were watery but she tried hard to keep her head clear. "Well what can we do? There must be something."

"He was doing the best when he was sleeping, but since the fever rose, he's become distressed and clearly isn't going to fall back asleep easily. Sleep is more healing to the body than people give it credit for. If you could get him down, it might be our best hope," Dr. Whale offered, knowing internally that he was giving the woman false hope. At that moment, there wasn't much else that could be done; only time would tell.

"Okay. I can do that," she spoke with determination. "Henry, you need to go to sleep okay? I know you probably don't understand me, but I'm out of ideas here."

"Emma…."

The blonde turned toward the soft voice that she had almost forgotten was present in the room. "When did you grab _this_?" Mary Margaret asked, picking up the story book from where it lay in the pile of miscellaneous items that Emma had brought in her hurry.

Emma hadn't even recalled grabbing it in the rush out of the apartment. She must have snatched it from the coffee table when she reached for her keys. Why she would've subconsciously thought to bring it, she couldn't understand.

"I honestly don't know..." she shrugged, but then a thought dawned on her. "What if we read to him? Kids _love_ stories right?"

Mary Margaret doubted that something as simple as a book of stories would make much of a difference at this point, but seeing the desperation in the face of her friend pushed her to do whatever she could to help ease her into the inevitable.

"Sure," she responded, taking a seat next to Emma. "I can read so you can hold him."

Emma's eyes crinkled with gratitude and adjusted Henry, shushing him softly and silently praying that this was all just a bad dream. She watched as her roommate turned to the beginning of the story of Snow White and began to utter the words aloud.

"_Once Upon a Time, there was a young princess with skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as night…" _Her voice tapered off as Emma stared at Henry intently. She knew every curve of his face, from his soft eyes lids to his button nose. He had started to resemble her more; she had honestly tried to not get her hopes up, thinking that it was just her mind making her see the similarities, but Mary Margaret had pointed out that he had her mouth and was slowly getting her eye coloring. Upon hearing that, she had felt her heart swell with pride.

As the words flowed from Mary Margaret's lips like silk, Henry's crying lessened and after twenty minutes, his eyes floated closed. Emma felt herself relax slightly and she closed her eyes in hesitant relief.

"_Snow White mustered her courage and turned back toward the cell. 'Emma,' she breathed, 'Her name is Emma.'" _ Emma's attention peaked and her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name but realized that it was just something read from the book. The book with the fairytales that were hardly traditional.

"_James looked across the bed at his beautiful squirming daughter as Doc cleaned her off. Bending down toward his wife he whispered, 'I love you Snow.'" _Love. Suddenly a realization came to Emma. She had been so closed off by her past that she hadn't even told Henry that she loved him yet. He would have been the least frightening person to say it to; he wouldn't even know what she was saying. And yet she hadn't said it. Maybe it was just because admitting it aloud was too frightening. But she didn't want to be afraid of it anymore.

Mary Margaret turned the page of the book and her eyes immediately fell upon the photo on the right page. Snow lay in the bed with Charming at her side, holding her daughter close. Her daughter who was wrapped in an ivory blanket with her name sewn onto the corner with a vibrant purple.

Emma mustered her courage and bent down toward Henry, pulling his hot sleeping form closer towards her and whispered softly to him, "I love you Henry."

Mary Margaret's eyes widened as she recognized the blanket, and Emma lips pressed softly onto Henry's tiny forehead. In that second, unbeknownst to both, the two women's knees ever so lightly grazed each other, and within a moment the room was enveloped in light. A beam flew out from where the three of them were seated, and their hair flurried in a gust of air. Before either could blink the room blurred in a flash of white, and Emma was engulfed in another world.

"_Emma." "You have to take her; take the baby to the wardrobe." She was beautiful, her long dark hair hung loosely over her tired shoulders. He stood strong and proud but his eyes glistened with pain. And then the world was spinning, his sword blocked blow after blow. He was injured, but they made it. Suddenly there was an overwhelming smell of wood, and something else she didn't recognize. "Good-bye Emma." And with that the doors shut and everything went to black._

Reality suddenly came into focus again, and Emma immediately looked down at her son just in time to see his eyes open and hear his powerful cry break the stale air. Within seconds he was beaded with sweat and his fever was broken. Emma just let him cry, because deep down she wanted to also. She had no idea what the hell had just happened, but whatever it was, it meant that crying was going to be inevitable in the coming days. As if she hadn't already cried enough in the last month.

Almost like a sudden brush of warmth, Emma felt it. A soft hand floating down to rest upon her arm. She didn't dare look as she felt painful tears scrape the surface. Finding a spot of bravery within herself, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then turned to face the petite woman with the cropped black hair.

All the while knowing that once she did, she could never go back.

**Oh SSHHNAP. Could that have been what I think it is? Review and help reassure me ;)**


	16. Hold Onto What You Believe

**Okay, I'm just going to let you go read, but first THANK YOU FOR THE EXPERIENCE. I will answer lots of remaining questions in the extended author's note at the end. Catch you on the flip side :)**

**HOLD ON TO WHAT YOU BELIEVE**

It was autumn. The leaves had begun to change, and the sun worked to break through the increasing crisp of the daytime air. A gurgling laugh split through the breeze and a stumbling child burst through the brush and into the clearing. His sandy brown waves of hair buffeted in swirling patterns against the wind and a toothy grin was plastered on his face. Limbs flailing, he ran forward, throwing his head back and releasing squeals of joy. He glanced back, and seeing that his chaser had advanced closer, he screamed and his eyes grew wide, shining in the sun as he attempted to run faster.

But within seconds he felt two strong hands grasp his sides, and his feet left the ground as he was lifted high in the air. The fingers holding him tickled vigorously and he squirmed in delight.

"Mama no!" He tried to argue but his giggling overtook him. Swiftly he was spun around and was looking into the face of his mother. With his hands he grasped around her neck and hugged her tightly; letting her golden curls weave between his fingers.

"I love you Mama," he whispered into her neck, his round cheek pressed against it.

"I love you too Henry," she replied, holding him closer. The minute her grasp lessened, he seized the moment, squirmed from her arms, and took off across the field once again.

"I bet you can't catch me 'gain!" He cried, his teeth once again glinting in the bright daylight.

* * *

_"I….." Emma found herself at a loss for words. Her emotions were spinning and she felt lost in Mary Margaret's hazel eyes. Or was that not even her name? How was all that she had just seen possible? She knew it was a memory, but a memory from where? And how?_

_She was feeling overwhelmed under the gaze of this other woman. This woman that was…her mother? Without a word she leapt from her seat, frantically asked the nurses to disconnect Henry's wires and set off toward the hospital exit with him in one arm and the book in the other. Somehow she knew that he would fine now, that he didn't need any sort of medical attention, almost in a magical way. Turning back she looked at the woman she was leaving behind, who looked like she had turned to stone, an expression of shock mixed with both love and extreme pain enveloping her features._

_"I'm sorry…" Emma called out as she finally left._

_She had barely made it through the front glass doors when something made her look back. She panicked upon seeing Mary Margaret venturing out the door of her room looking nowhere but the floor as though she was lost. But then her head flicked upward toward a voice. And then Emma saw him. James; he was racing toward her roommate and in one swoop they were caught up in each other's embrace. For minutes they were woven together but abruptly they broke apart, exchanged a few words and both glanced toward the door where Emma stood. She turned and ran, hoping they hadn't seen her._

_As she traveled toward home she only had one lingering image in her mind. The look of elated revelation on James' face, and the conflicted pain and longing on Mary Margaret's._

* * *

"Come on Henry, grandma and grandpa are waiting.." she called out to the little boy who was stopped on the sidewalk, fascinated by the dandelion puffs sprouting up along the edge of the lawn in front of the mayor's mansion. The building itself was grey from a lack of care, and the lawn had turned into a garden of various weeds. No one had lived there in over two years. The same applied to the pink house on the other side of town.

It hadn't taken long for the townspeople to track down those who were responsible for their predicament, and even less time for the dwarves to construct another prison on the outskirts of the town. Rumpelstiltskin had been found, about to drink a strange purple potion, for what purpose none of them had ever figured out, and Regina had been sitting in her office alone, completely unaware of the fact that her curse had been broken. So there the two villains sat, sharing a cell.

Twice a day they were brought meals, and they were always sitting on either side of the cell, grasping one item each. Regina, a small glowing ring, and Rumple, a chipped porcelain cup. Both objects of the people they once loved, now dead. The day awaits when they will no longer be able to contain their blame and anger, and they will unleash it on each other.

Toddling to catch up, Henry lunged forward and grabbed his mother's hand and pulling her ahead. "Come on! Gwama's making basghetti!"

"Well, we better run then huh?" she played along with a laugh, leaning down to scoop him into her arms and taking off in a sprint; Henry's infectious laughter echoing down the road.

* * *

_Emma had never understood what authors meant when they wrote that a character was "reeling." Up until this moment, that is. There was no other way to describe it. She felt like she was falling down an endless hole as she took in the stories before her. Each page in the book brought her childhood fairytales to life. She sat on the couch in the empty apartment and took it all in._

_It told of a curse sent by an evil queen to take away the happy endings. To send the fairytale world somewhere where their loved ones would be ripped from them. A land without magic. But it also told of a child that was destined to save the people who were cursed, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Emma poured over the pages. She had guessed there was a connection between the book and her suddenly experiencing those memories and the minute she turned the next page it was affirmed. _

_Her blanket. It was her blanket. The scene scrawled out in bright colors was a replica of what she had seen in the strange flashes. Snow White and Prince Charming. No, that was James and Mary Margaret. How was it possible? And then the following pictures continued to match the pictures engrained in her mind. A swordfight, and then a hollowed out tree. What did this all mean? She was overwhelmed beyond belief._

_Suddenly the front door burst open and she jumped, looking first to Henry's crib to see if had woken, which he hadn't, and then to the source of the noise. To her surprise the people on the other side were engaged in an odd conversation and hadn't noticed her presence._

_"Honestly, Charming. Did you _have to_ bust down the door? I might have forgotten my key earlier, but I have a spare under the mat." Mary Margaret rolled her eyes at James. _

_"Yeah I know, but I've missed doing that. It's not every day you wake up after eighteen years and suddenly have all the athletic skills from what can only be described as a partial past life." He grinned at her sweetly and plopped a kiss on her forehead._

_Emma exhaled louder than she'd intended and accidentally caught their attention. Abruptly their expression shifted as they faced her. They moved to enter but before they could she held up her hands and commanded,_

_"Stop." They looked startled at the statement but obliged. "I have no idea what the HELL is going on, but I'm presuming you do, so before anything else happens I need answers."_

_"Emm—" Mary Margaret began to speak softly._

_Emma interrupted quickly, her voice tight and higher than normal. "Why do I suddenly have memories of you two? Not like memories from here or now, since I have known you, but from some other time. You were there and I was…I was a baby?..." She inhaled shakily. "Why do I suddenly have memories that you're…my…parents?"_

* * *

Arriving at the doorstep, Emma swiveled the small boy to her hip gracefully and opened the door.

"Oh! God. Seriously?!" she cried out, mentally scarred for what felt like the hundredth time.

In the kitchen stood James and Snow, _once again_ entangled in each other. James' hands were just shy of underneath the back of Snow's blouse, and her fingers were lost in his small waves of hair. Their daughter's entrance startled them and they broke apart, red in the face, and looking apologetic. _Would they ever learn?_

"I swear you two are like horny teenagers," the young blonde remarked with a snort, forcing the previous scene to fall from her mind as she set down Henry and watched him take off toward his grandfather.

In one bound he leapt into the air and landed in Charming's strong arms. "How's my favorite grandson doing?"

"I'm great! We went on ah advenchurrrr. We fought the dragons just like you Gwampa!" Charming's face was alight as he listened to Henry's tale.

Snow's eyes left her husband and grandson momentarily and glanced at her daughter, who responded with a warm smile. "Dragons, huh?"

Emma rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm gonna go throw our stuff upstairs," she announced, making her way toward the staircase. Behind her she could hear James getting Henry a plate of spaghetti, still chattering on about fairytales. Her boots clopped heavily on the metal steps until she made her way into the open space of her bedroom. James had creatively built a corner-ed wall in the room that allowed for a small "room" for Henry. It would have to do for a while, or at least until he grew too big for it. But Emma wouldn't mind if it stayed that way forever. She loved hearing his little footsteps running across the wooden floor in the middle of the night, followed by a soft poking on her face.

Most of the time he would just tap her cheek until her eyes opened, and then flash his very best pleading grin and jump into the bed at her okay. The feeling of his warm little body cocooned against her own always helped her sleep better at night. When the curse had first broken she would sit up in the wee hours of the morning and just hold him to her, gazing out the window and into the dark sky. He was the only thing that had felt stable for those many months.

Emma laid down on her bed and shut her eyes, trying to push away any thoughts of doubt. Despite the years that had passed she was never rid of the worry. And the feeling that at any moment her entire life might slip from her fingers. Who was to say that Snow or James wouldn't get tired of her one day and ask her to leave? Every parent she'd ever had, had done so. The bed suddenly shifted as another body landed on it. Emma hadn't even noticed her enter the room.

* * *

_Snow touched Charming's chest lightly as if to tell him _'letme handle this' _and stepped hesitantly through the doorway. Emma automatically backed away another few inches, so Snow halted and steadied herself. She felt like there was another person pressing on the entire inside of her form, trying to launch her across the room and towards her daughter. It hurt terribly to continue fighting it, but she knew that any other movement forward would cause Emma to either flee or shut down entirely._

_They were on the edge of a double-sided cliff. Either way they were likely to fall and plummet to their death, so there really wasn't much to lose. All Snow could do was try to talk calmly, clearly, and with as little emotion as possible. That would be her best chance of getting a response from Emma._

_She took a few wavering breaths and then looked straight into the green eyes of the girl across the room. _

_"You have these memories because of a very long list of reasons and stories and…" In the corner of her eye she suddenly saw the book lying open on the couch. She looked toward it and then back to Emma. "How much of that have you read?"_

_Emma fidgeted nervously. "I just saw my blanket and then a tree…with doors? I was inside it. But that doesn't answer my…"_

_"Your blanket. Okay. That's a good starting place, I think. That was the blanket you were wrapped in when you were found, right?"_

_Emma looked surprised that the woman knew about her being "found."_

_"Relax Emma. I just read that file you keep with you one night while you were asleep. Sorry, by the way." Snow shook her head to clear her thoughts. "First of all, I don't know how much you have figured out on your own but I'm guessing you know that we aren't really who you know us to be, or at least have thought we were for the last few months. And trust us, we didn't know otherwise either. It was just a part of the curs—" Snow halted, seeing that Emma was lost._

_She sighed. "Eighteen years ago, or at least eighteen years to you, my stepmother unleashed a powerful curse upon the land that I am from. That entire land was sent here, to Storybrooke, where we have all lived without our memories since then. You, Emma, are from that world too. But, you were sent to safety before the curse took over so that you could return one day and break it. And that is what happened today when we were at the hospital." Mary Margaret paused and tilted her head. "Are you following?"_

_Emma nodded ever so slightly, holding her gaze on the floor and keeping her arms crossed tightly across her chest._

_"Breaking that curse restored all of our memories, so now we all know who we really are. Do _you_ know who we really are?" Snow felt as though she was talking to a small child, but moving any faster would get them nowhere. Emma was a walking contradiction; despite her tough exterior, she was incredibly breakable._

_Emma's eyes danced as she avoided looking at her roommate. She managed a small nod and mumbled. "At least I think I do."_

_"Okay. Good. So to answer your question, the reason that you have these memories is because the curse is broken, and when you broke it, it showed you the earliest parts of your life. You remember these things because they're the truth, Emma."_

* * *

Snow laid next to her daughter, their arms barely brushing and stared at the ceiling alongside her. A soft exhale puffed out from her nose and she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips at laying with Emma. She still felt an unbelievable amount of love, even just being in her presence. She turned her head to the side and gazed at the profile of Emma's face. Their resemblance was uncanny; how she had never picked up on it before the curse was broken, was beyond her.

Feeling a twinge of bravery she spoke up, "Three years." It was less of a statement and more of a reflection.

Emma turned to look at her, and in doing so subconsciously brought their shoulders together. Her eyes flickered and her eyebrows twitched slightly in question.

"Three years," Snow echoed, "Three years ago today was the first time you said that you loved me. I know it's a silly thing to keep track of but after the curse was broken, and we were in that weird place in our relationship and I needed something to hold on to. So I went back and tracked down that date. The night before my birthday when we had our sleepover. I don't even know if you'd realized that you'd said it."

Emma was shocked that the woman had remembered the exact date. She could see her reflection in the wetness of Snow's eyes and had a feeling that the brunette could do the same in her own.

"To be honest," she replied softly, "I do remember it, but at that moment I had hoped you hadn't noticed. I haven't thought of it since, really." Noticing a slight drop in her mother's expression she continued, "But I do think I meant it, on some subconscious level, even if it was _that_ early on. You took me in when I needed someone, whether or not I thought so, and were the first person to truly love me."

She shifted her head so it lay against Snow's shoulder and let her eyes close again. "So...thanks."

"And you're really not a terrible parent, you know. I still see it sometimes; I know you feel guilty, but you shouldn't. I know that you didn't get to raise me and all but...I don't know I'm just rambling now. So I guess I'm sorry that you never really got to raise your baby. I couldn't imagine not having Henry."

The silence that fell was considerably less awkward than Emma would have expected. The whole "using words to express your thoughts" thing was becoming easier with time. Any effort that she made was, in truth, more for her parents than it was for herself. But it really was for Snow the most. James was easier to fit into the form of her picture of a parent, because she really hadn't known him well in the first place. But Emma knew she would never trade her life now for anything in the world.

"Emma…" Snow White finally spoke softly, after debating with herself internally for many moments. "Your father and I have been meaning to...and I know he might want me to wait, but I can't anymore, and I just...I need to tell you som—"

Before she could finish there was a knock on the door. Emma rose quickly, raced downstairs to open it-Snow following close behind but taking a seat at the table-and beamed at the person on the other side.

"Unca Gwaham!" Henry squealed from his booster seat. He leapt from his spot and raced into the scruffy-faced man's arms.

"Well hello! How are you today Henry?" The Huntsman smiled, still getting that warm feeling at hearing himself being called by a real name, and not his fairytale moniker.

"I'm good," the little boy responded.

"Did you have spaghetti for dinner?" He asked, looking at the distinctive orange tint around Henry's small mouth.

Henry's eyes grew wide. "How did you guess? Do you have a superpower like Mama?"

"I guess so!" Graham said, playing along and throwing a wink at Emma, who responded with a blush and a smile.

* * *

_Emma absorbed the information that was given to her. Her roommate was a fairytale character, Snow White no less. She hadn't been overreacting in her assumptions. The entire idea was insane, but there was something even more overwhelming that she had been trying to hold at arm's length. What it meant in relation to her. Who these two people were, not only their identities, but what their place in her life was._

_For minutes they all stood in silence, Emma's shaky breathing rattling through the air and ripping Snow's heart in two with each exhale. Snow knew she shouldn't speak again. She had given Emma an opening, a doorway, a road to take; and now it was her job to actually go through it. So none of them spoke. None of them spoke for minutes._

_Emma was trembling, and it increased the closer she got to admitting what was engulfing her mind, aloud. Her tongue was fighting her; the minute it was uttered, the minute it was re-affirmed, her world was going to come crashing down. She was angry, and scared, but leaving wasn't an option, especially with Henry._

_More than twice she opened her mouth to speak, but it shut itself quickly, trapping the words inside. More than twice Snow saw this and each time her hope rose, only to fall once again. In the span of those minutes Charming had gracefully moved to Snow's side and shut the door soundlessly behind him._

_Snow's foot moved ever so slightly in Emma's direction, as if to move to step forward and it was enough of a trigger. Emma's voice slid into the quiet air but she remained looking at the wooden floor._

_"So this. All of this. You're Snow White, and that was you in the book. And that was me. So that means…that means…" Emma's exhale quivered dramatically. "You're my…mmm…" Emma tried to finish the word. She'd never truly spoken it whilst holding its weight in her entire being. _

_Snow closed most of the space between them and place one hand on Emma's arms wrapped tightly around herself. _

_"Mother." She finished the phrase for her daughter. She helped her make the jump._

_At the sound of it, Emma's wet eyes looked up suddenly, meeting Snow's and instantly pouring out tears. Her shoulders were quivering and her mouth was tight like she was trying to hold in a scream. Suddenly her chest heaved and she felt herself starting to fall away. She wanted to shut it all out. Her throat choked, breaking the damn, and instantly she was crying audibly._

_Snow forcibly unraveled Emma's tightly wound arms, and wormed her own in their place, wrapping them around Emma and pulling the girl into her. She held her tightly, and with such intensity that she thought she may never be able to let go. She could feel each muscle in her daughter tensing as she shook, her sobs outpouring the hurt from all those years._

_"I'm sorry," Snow whispered. "I am SO sorry."_

* * *

From her spot at the table, Snow fell into thought; something she hadn't done in a long while. She rested her hands in her warm, soft lap and watched the small grouping by the door as they moved in conversation, the two adults indulging in Henry's fantasies about fairytales. Sometimes it made her sad to know that they would never return to their old land. When the curse was created, it had been destroyed, and there was no getting it back. But at least she had her family.

Emma. _Her _Emma. Her daughter, the woman who was so headstrong; the woman who had taken months to adjust; but the woman who had made the effort. Reflecting on the memories made Snow's heart swell. They had started fresh, and although it had been bumpy, she finally felt like they were at peace. Many milestones still lay before them, undoubtedly moved farther away by Emma's walls, which still rebuilt themselves sometimes. But each time they came down, they stayed down longer, and never quite built up as high again.

* * *

_For what felt like eternity the small family stood there, Emma in her mother's arms, and James holding his powerful hands on Snow's shoulders._

_It wasn't perfect. The emotions that ran wild weren't even of happiness; they were of relief. The lifetimes they had each spent searching for each other had just won out. And that missing piece had been fit neatly in the empty space of their hearts._

_Emma didn't even care about how vulnerable she was being. She didn't care about her anger, or her pain, or what these two people had caused her to go through. To the best of her ability she understood why they had done what they did, and she knew, without them saying, that they loved her. It was written all over their features._

_She gave up on all her ideas of what she would do if the day that she found her parents ever came, now that it was here. She would have time, a lifetime, to yell and fight about stupid things, and ask questions, and tell them how they hurt her. But just for now, she wanted to be held. She wanted to be held, for the first time in eighteen years, by her mother._

* * *

Out of the corner of her eye Snow saw Charming get up from the table and join the cluster by the door, talking about dragons and magical fairies. They were safe, her daughter had returned to her, she had a _grandson_; her family was _almost_ complete.

She faintly heard Emma call out. "Hey we're all gonna go to the park with Henry, you wanna come?" Emma. She would never be tired of her daughter's beautiful voice. She could listen to it all day and never be tired of it. She still had a lot of time to make up for. Little moments like the one they'd had upstairs were what she lived for now. Even though the Mary Margaret side of her still remained, Snow couldn't help but feel that lingering pain at what she had missed out on. What she had caused her daughter to go through alone for those eighteen years.

"Mom, are you coming?" Emma's holler echoed across the living as she walked out the door. Snow's head snapped up in shock to see a cape of blonde curls turning toward the door to follow the three guys ahead of her.

_Mom._ The largest grin she'd ever felt emerged on Snow's face and she fought her watering eyes, even though she knew the younger girl hadn't even noticed the slip. Maybe what she'd assumed about those walls was wrong.

"Emma wait! I'm coming." She grabbed her purse, and walked to her daughter's side, taking once last look into her deep eyes and giving her a smile.

They stepped out into the hallway and just as Emma shut the door she found herself wrapped in a sudden embrace. Snow hadn't even realized that she'd done it, but something inside her moved on impulse and she was squeezing the young blonde with an immense amount of affection.

Emma was startled to say the least. "Wh...What is this for?" she spluttered, more out of surprise than discomfort. She truly didn't mind such actions of affection, she just wondered what had caused it.

Snow backed up sheepishly, but still wearing an undeniable look of happiness. "Nothing. I just love you is all. Can't I just hug you for no reason?" She lied, covering her tracks.

"Fair enough," Emma conceded with a particular light in her eyes, and swinging her head towards the stairwell leading outside. "Shall we go?"

Snow nodded and they started off. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Emma fighting the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was perfect. She was Snow's entire world. She was her daughter. And she loved her more than anything.

They exited the front doors of the building and walked down the sidewalk without conversation, allowing the stillness to dictate their thoughts.

Together they clipped along, side by side, for they had found each other. Like they always would.

* * *

**Okay, so super long author's note time. **

**First of all thank you all so much for following, reviewing, favorite-ing, and just plain _reading_ this. Never would I have thought that my, truthfully _selfish_, need for some Emma and MM moments in my life would turn into such an amazing experience for me. You all are the best people a girl could get the chance to have in her life. Oh and did anyone catch that particular thing that I hinted at a couple times in this chapter?**

**Anyways, with that said, there are a few things that I have a feeling you all will be wondering about. Number one, why did Rumple want the baby? Well an important thing to know, that wasn't exactly made clear is that in this AU, for lack of time and the fact that the fic wasn't centered on Rumple/Regina, was that Belle really was dead by the end. Post the curse breaking, I imagined that Regina had her taken care of immediately, knowing that once the girl awakened she would head off in search of her lost love. That was something that Regina could never let happen. Especially now that her curse was broken and she had no magical power. That explains my statement that they were clutching onto the things of people they once loved, now dead.**

**My idea behind why Rumple wanted the baby is that he had the same plan set out as he does in the real OUAT, just altered slightly. He would give the child to Regina, scare Emma into leaving town, and knowing that she'd only discover it was all a lie a year or two later when she finally stopped running. But would she return? No. Because of her shame and guilt she wouldn't. She would convince herself that her son was in a better place by that point. And then years later, MM would give Henry the book that he was meant to have originally and the story would begin from there. There would just be more apologies and Emma redeeming herself with MM, instead of being strangers from the start.**

**Why Rumple was found trying to drink the true love potion was because True Love breaks any curse. And his curse was having no magic in this land. He probably thought that drinking it would give him his power back. _Just_ him.**

**So that should clarify most of it, oh and Graham _was_ free of Regina after the curse broke, obviously. And as for characters like Bae or August? I don't really know. Maybe August surfaced eventually after the curse broke, and maybe Bae returned one day (not Henry's father in this) and went to his own father, said a few words and then left, never to return. It's left up to the imagination.**

**So there you have it. If you have any more questions, please PM me, I'd love to answer. This has been such a fantastic journey, thank you for joining me, thank you 7Seven7 for everything, and I hope you all enjoy the SEASON 2 PREMIERE THIS SUNDAY. Get ready for some major Charming Family (Snow and Emma!) feels. I will have my hot cocoa with cinnamon and a box of tissues at the ready. I love you all, the end.**


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